The Blackmailed Exhibitionist

Part 5

by G. Lawrence

An adventurous young woman's challenges escalate

24-year-old Tracy Anders' best friend is using blackmail to compel her to more difficult missions.

A note from the author; the original chapter 5 of the Blackmailed Exhibitionist has been withdrawn from Literotica. This is a new chapter 5. This new chapter includes the last few pages of the original chapter which introduces Ryan Sutherland, who becomes important in later episodes. Here, Ryan has just rescued Tracy from a sleezy waterfront bar. Donna, who only wanted to scare Tracy, believed her cohort Wanda would protect her. But Wanda is suspicious that Tracy might reveal her criminal activities and has become a dangerous enemy. And a final note, this is not a BDSM story. The handcuffs used briefly by Donna are to make Tracy's challenge harder. There is no sex. The characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

Life on a Ferris Wheel

It was cool outside. I was unsteady, never good at holding my alcohol. We took a few steps, and then a few more. My first thought was to look for Donna or Miranda. Were they watching? Taking pictures from the shadows? Trying to see what happened to me in that sleezy bar? The downtown street was dark and empty. The gritty sidewalk felt strange under my bare feet. I dumped the shiny boots Donna gave me in a trashcan, only wearing a torn white blouse soaked in beer and a tiny red skirt without panties. The strange man who rescued me remained close.

"Excuse me, miss. My name is Ryan Sutherland. Can I take you someplace?" he offered.

"I want to clean up. There's a shower at the beach," I replied.

Ryan led me toward the ocean two blocks away. The shops were closed. Drunks lingered in the alleys. A few cars went by, none slowing down for the half naked woman stumbling through the city. When we reached the beach, I turned on the water to stand under the cold spray. What clothes I had left were ruined, the blouse nothing but a rag. I tore it off and threw the shreds in the sand. The hated skirt went next. I ripped it in half, tossing the pieces into the darkness. It left me standing under the shower naked before this man I'd never met.

What does he want? I asked myself. What will he do to me now that we're out here alone? The yellow lightbulb was weak, but he appeared to have short dirty blond hair, a light stubble on his chin, and deep blue eyes. I'd have swooned if I hadn't been feeling so sick and terrified.

"You've had a rough night," Ryan said. "Can I take you home?"

"Not right away," I said, barely able to speak. Donna would be there. Probably Miranda. What would they put me through? What questions would they ask? Just thinking about another confrontation was causing me to hyperventilate. My hand gripped my heart. Another reached for the shower pole, seeking support. My legs grew weak as I found myself sinking to the ground, the drizzly water raining down on me.

* * * * * *

I woke up on a couch in a nice apartment, seeing daylight through the windows. The furniture was simple and sturdy. A family photo: mom, dad, young woman, and Ryan was mounted above the fireplace. There was a bookcase, lace curtains, and thick carpets. My body was in sweatpants and a t-shirt three times too big for me. A wool blanket covered my legs.

"At last. I thought you'd sleep all day," Ryan said, coming out of the kitchen. "Can I get you coffee? Tea? I'm guessing no bourbon."

I tried to laugh, though my head hurt. "No bourbon. Not ever again," I replied.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes. Nice family. No wife or children?"

"I've never been married," he answered.

Ryan was even better looking in the light than shadows. 6'2, just under two-hundred pounds, and built like a football player. He had an inviting personality that intrigued me.

A few minutes later, he returned with two cups of coffee, putting one on the table in front of me and sitting in a chair nearby.

"Just so you know, I needed to clean you up last night. You were in bad shape. But nothing happened."

"You rescued me," I said, tears creeping into my eyes. He looked a little surprised at that. Like he was wondering if the tears were sincere or a woman's ploy. He was still dressed casually with a blue-collar shirt, brown pants, and loafers. Kind of dorky.

"Can you tell me what that was all about? I'll wager you've never been in a bar like that before, certainly not dressed like a hooker."

"It was a--"

I was going to say I lost a bet. Or it was a dare. He would never believe either story, and I would feel like a fool saying it.

"I can't really explain."

"Your friend hung you out to dry," he said, leaning forward to study my response.

"Miranda is no friend of mine," I bitterly answered, sipping the coffee.

"What's your name? You have no ID on you. You didn't even come in with a purse."

I briefly wondered how he had noticed that. "Tracy Anders. I work for Breton Real Estate in Lawndale," I said.

"You sell houses?" he asked.

"I process loan documents."

"You're a finance girl?"

"I have a business degree from Stanford."

"That's a good school. Wealthy parents?" he asked.

"Scholarship. My mom and dad own a small farm in Ohio. They aren't rich."

"What the hell were you doing in a waterfront dive at that hour?"

"Please don't ask me to explain. It wouldn't make any sense."

"How are you feeling? Injuries?"

"I don't think so," I replied, moving my arms and legs. My crotch was sore, probably from those perverts grabbing me. I didn't think it was more. Where had my skirt and blouse gone? I couldn't remember.

"You can file a complaint against that saloon," he said. "They never should have allowed the situation to get out of control."

He was studying me again. Did he know Miranda had choreographed the event? And that I had stayed in the bar willingly? Almost willingly.

"I wouldn't want my name revealed," I honestly answered. "It would be too embarrassing."

"They were taking pictures."

"But they don't know my name. I'd like to keep it that way."

"It's your decision, as much as I'd like to see those guys taken down."

"Why did they back off like that? A whole room full of angry drunks, and you were the only one who stood up for me."

"I can be convincing when I need to be," he answered. "What do you want to do? Would you like a ride home now?"

I kept waiting for him to make a move on me and felt disappointed when he didn't. He was really good-looking with a pleasant, masculine voice. The accent was tinged Midwestern, like mine.

"That would be nice, if it's not too much trouble," I agreed.

Ryan had an upscale condo in the Maplewood district not far from the county fairgrounds. I'd probably run past it a few times while jogging. We rode largely in silence, his three-year-old Honda Civic clean and comfortable. He watched me get out in front of my apartment building and nodded before driving away. It never occurred to me to ask how he knew where I lived.

Donna was not there when Ryan dropped me off. Did she think things had gone too far? Why had she trusted Miranda to protect me? I could only hope that Donna had misjudged the situation, though I feared her behavior was becoming erratic. I turned off my phone, drifted for an hour in the bathtub, and spent all day Sunday in bed trying to put the horror out of my mind. It wasn't easy. I didn't know what to do, worried that Donna's next mission might be even worse. I did know that I hated Miranda to the very depths of my soul. If I was going to take a fall, I wanted to take her down with me.

* * * * * *

To my surprise, Ryan appeared at my office on Monday wearing a nice off-the-rack brown suit. I was at my desk, prim and proper in a new powder blue blouse and long black skirt, wearing my reading glasses. I greeted Ryan with a big smile.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing," he said, earning envious attention from my female co-workers.

"I'm doing so much better, thanks to you. Can I buy you lunch?" I asked.

"Lunch sounds terrific," he agreed with a soft grin.

I didn't take him to Racoon's, fearing Donna may be watching our favorite hangout. We went to a quaint Italian restaurant around the corner instead. I decided to skip my usual glass of wine, having club soda. Ryan drank water. He had lasagna. I ordered the house salad. We made small talk, mostly about my job. He didn't mention his.

"You are very pretty. You know that, don't you?" he complimented.

"Thank you, sir," I said with a flattered smile.

"You must have lots of boyfriends," he suggested.

"No, no boyfriends," I said.

"Girlfriends?"

"I'm not gay. At least, not yet," I responded. His expression narrowed some on that, trying to guess what I meant.

"You seem so normal," he calmly remarked.

"As opposed to-- Oh, I see what you mean. As opposed to that crazy girl in the bar?"

"It's hard to see the shy office girl and the waterfront harlot as the same person. What is it with you and Mrs. Evans?"

"Who?"

"Miranda Evans," he clarified. I hadn't remembered that was her last name and had no idea she'd ever been married.

"We have a mutual acquaintance," I answered.

"Business acquaintance?" he pressed.

"You're asking a lot of questions."

"I'm just curious what kind of person would set you up in a dive bar to be gang raped," he explained with a touch of quiet anger.

"I don't really know her, and their business is none of my business, so I've never asked. Please, let's drop this."

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed, leaning forward on the table. "Let's talk about fun stuff. Who is your fashion designer?"

I reacted with surprise and felt his infectious smile. It took a bit of nerve to say such a thing.

"First let me ask, Mr. Sutherland. Who is your fashion designer? Walmart?" I responded.

"You are a sassy lass, aren't you," he said with a big laugh. "I bet you get in all kinds of trouble."

"More than I should," I replied, nibbling at my food.

It was nice pretending to be a regular girl for a moment, having lunch with a handsome man. Though I began to wonder. Is he too good? Is Ryan another of Donna's assets? Was that why she wasn't waiting for me outside the bar? Because she knew Ryan was watching me?

I began to feel uneasy, finding it hard to trust anything. But Ryan was so nice. The kind of man I could never resist. Would he take me to his bed and then break my heart? Was this Donna's latest scheme? I needed to be careful.

* * * * * *

"You have always loved rides," Donna said as we strolled through the summer festival at the county fairgrounds. Around us were Depression-era cement buildings, a racetrack, stables for horses, giant tents, food vendors, and carnival rides.

Donna was wearing a yellow summer dress with a full-length skirt and a straw hat. I was naked under a thigh-length windbreaker. It didn't take much to guess that Donna was planning to abandon me here. I began making mental notes on everything. The layout of the grounds. Where people were congregating. Security stations. Exit gates. But I didn't let on what I suspected, not wanting Donna to make the challenge harder.

It was quite a festival. Live music on several stages. Petting zoos. A roller coaster, spinning rides, parachute drops, a Ferris wheel, and an old-fashioned train chugging around the perimeter. Areas for children included huge bouncy castles filled with foam balls, jugglers, monkey trainers, clowns, and booths for face painting. Donna saw me glancing at the face painting.

"None of that for you," she said. "Not this time."

We reached the center of the fairgrounds, stopping before the Ferris wheel. It rose a hundred feet high above the fair with sixteen gondolas for two couples each. It would pause every few minutes so those on top could get a view of the city.

"This looks like a fun one," Donna said, pushing me into the small line. She loved the look of panic in my eyes. I had thought all along of possible escape routes. How was I going to escape a Ferris wheel? And then it got worse.

"What? Donna, no," I desperately whispered as she lifted the windbreaker and handcuffed my hands behind my back. I tried to resist but was too late. A test proved I couldn't wiggle free. At least she pulled the windbreaker back down so everyone couldn't see my butt. The young couple in line behind us seemed to notice, though they gave no hint to their thoughts.

"Donna, please, at least give me a chance," I pleaded.

"You've been so damn smart lately, escaping every one of my traps. You still haven't said how you got out of that bar, and the bartender won't say, either."

"Maybe they weren't interested in a drunk girl covered in her own vomit?" I said.

"I doubt those fuckers cared about that. Not with your perky tits and pink pussy flashing. I'm sorry Miranda left you there alone. She wasn't supposed to do that, and I'll have a stern conversation with her. But you pulled some trick to escape and I want to know what it was."

"There was no trick. They let me walk away," I protested.

"Let's see you walk away from this one," she chuckled.

We reached the front of the line, and our gondola swooped down. The attendant let the people already there out. The young couple behind us got in the rear seat. Donna pushed me into the front seat and followed. The attendant made sure our safety belts were secure.

"You must be warm in this sun," Donna said. "Let's get this heavy coat off you."

I realized she had made the sleeves easy to peel open, pulling the windbreaker off me with little effort. I was sitting there naked on the metal bench, handcuffed, secured by a seatbelt. The Ferris wheel prepared to rise.

"Gosh, I hope no one yells 'naked woman'," Donna grinned. And then she jumped out of the gondola, leaning over to whisper, "See you in the parking lot. Maybe."

She disappeared down the ramp. The gondola began to move, going up and backwards, and I was helpless. With my hands cuffed behind me, I couldn't even reach the belt buckle. I looked around in every direction, trying to see if anyone had noticed my condition. The attendant might have but hadn't reacted. The young woman and man behind me did.

"I'm Josh, and you are into some really kinky shit," he said, stroking my bare shoulder. "What do you think, Jessie? Weird enough for you?"

"Not into handcuffs, thank you," Jessie replied. "Hey, bitch, do you know you're going to be arrested the moment we get down?"

"Please, this wasn't my idea," I said, hunching over. I let them hear the desperation in my voice, though I actually felt fairly calm. My senses were fully alert, reading everything around me. I only had one hope and needed to play my strongest card. If my acting was good enough.

"That horrible woman is making me do this," I said, quivering with powerful emotions. Tears were suddenly running down my face. "Can you help me? Please help me. Please, please help me."

"How can we help?" Jessie said, no longer looking at me like a skank.

"I knew she might do this. She's done it to me before. Reach under my hair in the back. Find the hairpin."

Josh ran his fingers along the back of my head where the hair was thickest. He found the hairpin. And the handcuff key. After the stunt Donna pulled in the mall, it had become standard equipment. Thank god she never caught on. I twisted around to face my companions.

"You really need this key, don't you?" Josh said with a devilish grin, holding it up.

"I really do, sir. Please," I replied, my eyes pleading.

"We'll be in this cart for forty minutes," he said. "What's in it for me? Want to crawl back here and do my dick a favor?"

"Goddamn it, Josh, fuck you!" his girlfriend shouted, slapping his face. She grabbed the key, pouting. Her jealous thoughts weren't hard to read.

"Are you doing this to mess with my guy?" she asked. "Why shouldn't I just throw this key away and leave you naked for the cops?" She motioned like she was going to do it.

I put on my most pitiful expression, getting good at that. My eyes half-closed, tears in the corners. I sniffled. I couldn't be sure this would work, but it wasn't like there were a lot of options.

"Please, have you ever been at the mercy of a bad person? Confused and scared, begging for someone to help you? Because that's where I am now. If they arrest me, I'll lose my job, my apartment, and everything else. My family will disown me. Do you think I'd do this for fun?"

The young woman gave me a long look. I certainly didn't seem to be enjoying myself. She also appeared to relish the power she had gained over me, treasuring a quiet smirk. People get so strange. I increased the tears, streaking my cheeks and whimpering in jagged breaths.

"How do you want to do this?" she finally said. I bent over. She leaned forward to unlock the handcuffs. Curiously, she tried to give them to me.

"Keep them as a souvenir," I said, rubbing my wrists. "They will look good on Josh."

Jessie turned toward her chagrined boyfriend with an evil grin. "Yes, he owes me for that blowjob crack."

The Ferris wheel reached the apex, pausing to enjoy the view. The downtown was before us under a blue afternoon sky, and the ocean beyond. It was beautiful. I was also planning my escape route. And my most dangerous stunt yet. It wasn't that I was fearless. To be truthful, I was terrified, but the fear would give me strength. I'd need every bit of it. I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"For the record, if this is the last thing I ever see, it could be worse," I absently said.

"What do you mean?" Josh asked.

"I'm not going to let that vile woman win," I replied. "Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs."

"There are two cops down there at the exit gate," Jessie said. "What are you going to do?"

"Do you see the children's bouncing castle? The pink plastic structure filled with foam? It's down there to the right behind the cotton candy stand."

"Yes, we see it," Josh said.

"When we are three-quarters of the way down, I'm going to jump for it," I announced.

"No! That's crazy!" Jessie objected.

"It's a hundred-foot drop!" Josh added.

"Closer to twenty-five feet, but if I miss, it's not going to be pretty," I explained, looking for the best angle.

"What's your name?" Jessie asked.

"Tracy."

"Tracy, please think about this. It's not worth it," she said. "You're making me sorry I took the handcuffs off you."

I turned around to look at them. They were more scared than I was. I leaned across, pulled Jessie towards me, and kissed her full on the lips.

"You may have saved my life today. Thank you. Thank you so very much," I said. "When I stand up to make the jump, this cart might sway. Can you help keep it steady?"

"I can," Josh said, reaching out to grab a strut.

"We both will," Jessie decided. "Can I take a picture? I mean, with you being naked and all, it might be embarrassing."

"May I borrow your headband?" I responded. She took off her red headband with the summer festival logo on it. I pulled my hair around to partially cover my face.

"Take a video, sweetheart," I said. "Both of you, take videos. I don't think you'll ever get anything more exciting than this. But please, don't tag my name."

"Deal," Josh said, searching his pocket for his phone. Jessie was slower to respond but couldn't resist. We were in this together now.

A small crowd had gathered near the bottom. From their angle, they couldn't be sure I had no clothes. Unless Donna was spreading rumors. Was Miranda close by with her camera? I didn't see her. There wasn't much of a police response. How many cops does it take to arrest a naked girl on a Ferris wheel?

"Tracy, what are you thinking?" Jessie asked.

"I'm wishing that castle was a swimming pool instead of a bubble house, and that I'd taken diving lessons in high school."

Jessie reached out to touch my shoulder. "You are so brave," she praised with a tear in her eye.

"No, just a woman who made a bad mistake and keeps paying for it over and over," I said. "Please, always be careful. Be careful who you trust."

The Ferris wheel paused at my mark. Twenty or thirty people had gathered below trying to see what the excitement was. I leaned back, not wanting them to suspect my plan. And who would suspect it? Jumping was a fantastically stupid idea. I held my breath, judging the distance one last time, and made my move.

"Bye, guys," I said as I stood up and leaped from the gondola toward the bouncy house.

It wouldn't surprise me if there were shouts and screams from the ground, but I couldn't hear them. I spread my arms as if flying, feeling the rushing air all around me. It was surreal. And exciting. I'd never felt more alive. Then I curled into a ball, crashing into the bubble castle roof, tearing through the fabric cover, and crashing among the thousands of foam squares, balls, and triangles.

I wasn't dead. To my delight, I didn't even feel hurt. Several spectators ducked out of the way as I fell, only able to see my head and feet in the foam. I smiled, crawled to the door, and ran.

Donna said she'd see me in the parking lot, though I doubted she thought I'd ever leave the Ferris wheel without being arrested. If she saw my dive, she would be heading for her car. Probably drawing security with her, looking forward to my broken expression when they caught me seeking rescue. I went in the opposite direction. But would Donna anticipate that? Reverse psychology? It was too complicated to worry about. A box in a box in a box. I needed to find an exit, not worry about what Donna was doing.

There was a wide gate where the supply trucks entered the grounds guarded an ancient stucco security booth. It was the last place they would expect to find me, so I sprinted past dozens shocked fairgoers. Heads turned. Mouths fell open. Cotton candy was dropped on the ground. All had wide-eyed expressions of surprise. And why not? I looked great, a petite young woman with a great body, perky breasts, and just enough pubic hair for modesty. My long golden-brown hair waved behind me as I held my tits with both hands and ran like hell on bare feet.

No one tried to stop me, but my luck wasn't good. Just as a truck was stopped at the gate, several guards emerged from their booth right in front of me, so close I nearly bumped into them. Damn! Fifty more feet and I would have been in the wooded hills beyond.

"What the fuck!" a guard shouted.

"She's naked!"

"Grab her!"

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. I put on the brakes and hauled ass toward the old buildings near the racetrack clubhouse, now used by vendors for sideshows and exhibits. I cut right and ran into the first one so fast the ticket-taker never saw me. I couldn't be sure if anyone else did.

It was dark inside. I heard weird, creepy noises. Moaning. Howling. The uneven floor had been raised using black painted plywood. Something flashed before me! A green, grinning, horrible skull! I screamed and fell backwards on my ass.

Damn! I was in a haunted house! It took a moment to regain my composure. I hate haunted houses. I wasn't going back out through the front door, so I searched for the employee exit, pawing past curtains and bizarre artifacts. The lighting was purple, yellow, and red. A mist machine created fog. The floorboards felt splintery under my naked feet. I saw ghosts. Witches. Zombies. Werewolves. Two young people making out in the corner. How many other people were in there with me? I didn't see any but could hear footsteps on the creaking floorboards.

A group of four kids approached in the dim light. College students by the look of them. I almost considered hiding in Dracula's coffin until realizing that would be the dumbest idea yet. All they would need to do is close the lid and lock me in. Seeing no other avenues of escape, I charged right through them, pushing the two guys out of my way.

"What the fuck?" one shouted. "Was she naked?"

"She can't be," a buddy said.

"It has to be a special effect," his girlfriend concluded. "They'd charge a lot more money if this was a ghost whore house."

I reached the rear door, peeking out. There were several older buildings, some with small lines of people waiting to get in. To my left was a farmer's market. Vendors were offering fresh food, soft drinks, and souvenirs. I wanted to dash over and grab a t-shirt, but the sellers were watchful for shoplifters and I had no money. I moved down to the next building. The back door was locked. There was a line waiting to get in, but with so many people nearby, I couldn't linger. I crept along the side and ducked in through the front. Too late. I was spotted.

With no choice, I ran down the middle corridor headed for the back, turning this way and that. There was a door. No, it wasn't a door. It was a glass wall. There! That was the door. No, that wasn't a door, either. Goddamn it! Another glass wall. And then I saw me. Another me. And six of me under shimmering lights. Fuck! It was a goddamn house of mirrors! Where should I go? Where should I turn? Why would anyone invent something so goddamn stupid?

I was breathing hard, trying not to be scared. Think, girl, think! My heart was beating like a hammer. There had to be a way out. Keep looking. Don't give up. People started to appear. Duplicates of people, like sinister clones. They were pointing, but were they pointing at me, or at my reflections? One reached out, trying to grab the naked girl. He hit a glass wall instead. I almost laughed. I heard mumbling, chuckling, and whispers. Camera flashes went off, but I knew all they would get were more flashes. Time to move on.

Finally, there was a door that was really a door. I burst into an alley, looking back toward the farmer's market. There were cops all over the place! Ten, maybe fifteen, searching everywhere. What the hell? Did they think I was a naked terrorist?

The last building down the row was the largest of the group. I walked slowly to avoid my movement attracting attention, and then ran the last few yards, ducking under the portico, trying to catch my breath. I wasn't so stealthy as I thought.

"Looking for your boyfriend?" a skinny whiskered man asked. He wore a bright red vest with a carnation in the lapel and a top hat. He winked at me. My hands covered my boobs but nothing else.

"Yes, sir. I was hoping to surprise him," I answered, trying to sound plausible.

"It's heartening to see such true love. He's probably inside waiting for you, missy. Just go on in," he granted.

In? I looked up at the sign. It was a lover's lane boat ride. I hesitated for a moment too long. A cop turned in my direction. What did he see? Did he see what he thought he saw?

"Hurry along, missy, I won't tell," the generous man said.

I needed no further urging, running inside and jumping in an empty boat. It was small, made of wood, and about fifty years old with peeling paint. The bench was uncomfortable to sit on without underwear.

The boat moved slowly. The walls were decorated with luminous paint. Hearts. Flowers. Farther along, the paintings became more suggestive, if not lewd. Romantic music played in the background. But then, up ahead near the end of the ride, I saw flashlights. Two of them. Men walking on planks looking into the boats. I needed to think fast, slipping over the side into the cold, filthy water.

"Are you sure you saw her?" one asked.

"I can't be positive, but it sure looked like a naked girl. Pretty, too. I'd love to be the one who catches her."

"And what would you do if you caught her?" his buddy said.

"Handcuff her, of course. Then tell her she would be perp-walked like that unless she has something to offer in exchange for a blanket."

"What? You'd exchange a blanket for a blow job?"

"I said I would offer her a blanket. I didn't say I would really give her one," he answered with a dirty laugh.

Nice guys, I thought, letting the boat go and wading back into the tunnel of love.

I let several boats pass, and then got hold of the fake rudder of another with a mature couple in it. Well-dressed and middle-aged, not youngsters like Jessie and Josh. They were making out like mad.

"Let me feel your tits," the man said.

"Not now. There are too many people," she declined.

"There isn't anyone here," he insisted.

"Hey, get your hand out of my panties," she protested.

I drifted along behind them, and suddenly they were lit up by the two flashlights.

"What do we have here?" the pervert security guard said.

"Oh, God, don't look," the woman said, pulling her shirt closed.

"Should we search her?" the guard asked.

"If you do, you assholes better have a fucking good lawyer," the boyfriend cursed, raising a fist. "And if you don't get those goddamn flashlights out of our faces, I'll have your asses fired faster than you can blink. And then I'll sue you for every dollar you ever made just for the fun of it."

The security guards weren't looking for that kind of trouble. They moved on, leaving the couple's boat and me behind. Near the exit, while the woman was still reading her boyfriend the riot act, I pulled myself out of the water to a dry deck, lying flat, and crawled to a side door.

It was getting late now. Families were moving toward the parking lots while younger people entered for the nighttime music and entertainment. I was determined the entertainment wasn't going to be me.

The cops were still everywhere, but more stationary. Watching rather than searching. I sought an exit route, not willing to climb a chain-link fence without shoes, but didn't see one. I moved along the edge of the racetrack clubhouse and found a groundskeeper standing right in my path.

"You! You, stop!" he yelled, trying to grab me. As if I wouldn't kick him in the balls first. I did make a quick turn, circled around a kiosk, and ran past him while he was looking in the other direction.

The brief encounter forced me back into the fairgrounds. I briefly dashed through the farmer's market, now getting ready to close. Many heads were turned. Men smiled. Women frowned. There were whistles. Surprisingly, I heard shouts of encouragement. I emerged from under the canopies, hurried across the plaza, and hid behind a long row of food vendors still doing good business.

The cooks were too busy to pay attention to me. Hot dogs. Burgers. Turkey legs. Pulled pork sandwiches. They smelled really good, and I hadn't eaten since having toast and orange juice for breakfast. I moved along behind the booths, protected by the hanging tarps keeping flies off the grills. I wondered if I could reach the stables. Were there any horses? I rode horses in college, and it was wonderful the way I could bounce up and down on the saddle, causing me to-- Well, it was stimulating. Maybe I could escape by pretending to be Lady Godiva? Performance art?

I was going to give it a try when a swarm of young men in white jackets emerged into my trash-filled alley. With no place else to go, I dove into a big metal dumpster and pulled the plastic lid down, cowering in the semidarkness. I was safe, until I wasn't.

The lid opened. I had been discovered! Oh, my God! Would I be dragged into the plaza by four smirking busboys? Given to the cops? Arrested? Perp-walked stark naked before hundreds of people? I couldn't believe this was getting me hot.

No, wait. They didn't pull me out, they poured garbage in! Bag after bag of discarded food, dirty paper plates, empty cups. It kept coming and coming until I felt buried, but I never uttered a sound. If anything, I found myself in the best hiding place of all time. No one was looking for a naked girl in the garbage.

The fairgrounds were filling up, and I realized escape any time soon was impossible. The smell bordered between rank and not-so-bad. I found a partially eaten caramel apple and nibbled on it. There was a nearly full bottle of water that I gulped down. After squeezing under several plastic bags, I found a comfortable position. I wondered if this was a good time to take a nap.

I didn't know what time it was, but it had to be late. The fairgrounds were growing quiet, like people were leaving. More garbage was added to my temporary home. Maybe it was time to make my move? I raised the lid, crawling up on my knees to look out, only to find someone looking at me from twelve inches away. It was a gray-bearded man in terrible clothes, and he smelled worse than the dumpster.

"Are you naked?" he asked. "Why are you in the trash?"

"My boyfriend dumped me," I answered.

"He's not allowed to do that," the stinky old man objected.

"I'm glad to hear that. I think I'll leave now."

Seeing no one else, I climbed out of the trash container covered in spoiled food and slime. Had I been thinking, I could have taken a plastic bag to cover myself, but I was distracted and exhausted. The dimming fairground lights had me disoriented.

"Hey, wait, you're the naked girl the cops were looking for earlier. The shoplifter," he said.

"Seriously, sir," I said, holding out my arms. "Does this look like a shoplifter?"

"There might be a reward for you," he said, reaching for my arm.

"Did you know there's a bottle of Jack Daniels in that trashcan over there?" I said, pointing to the back of a tent.

"Really? Jack Daniels?" he eagerly asked.

"Yes, really. The cook keeps coming out of the tent every few minutes for a snort. Take a look."

He went in one direction, I went in the other, running as fast as I could over the gravelly tarmac.

"Hey! Wait! There's no whisky here!" the old man shouted behind me. "It's a trick! You tricked me! Naked girl! Naked girl!"

I ran like the wind, my scum-filled hair flowing behind me. Faces turned, but they were all too far away. I headed for the service gate, saw a dump truck pulling out from the exit and put everything I had into a final sprint, jumping in the back and hiding under the debris. A moment later, the truck was on the road. I didn't see anyone following.

* * * * * *

To be continued ...

Author's note: if you are enjoying this series, please give it your support.