Kissing the Rat

Kissing the Rat

by Joyce Melton

The little blonde said, "Plenty of room?" in her inviting accent. None of us recognized her at first.

We all crowded into the Caesar's Palace elevator, Davy in his wheelchair, his parents, his nurse and I.

Davy looked younger than sixteen because the drugs made his face round and childlike. He sat high in the chair, his eyes at a perfect angle to be looking into the handiest cleavage--any cleavage. He didn't try not to stare.

He was a kid in a wheelchair and everyone in Las Vegas that weekend of the telethon knew he would die soon.

"I'm Charo," said the blonde. "Are you going to watch me in the show?" She had been performing since before she was Davy's age; an elevator made a pretty small venue but entertainers entertain.

Davy nodded, his eyes still on her breasts. Charo never talked without movements that jiggled the pleasant flesh. The elevator stopped at every floor though no one else got on.

"My little boy didn't come with me, he's eight," said Charo suddenly. "He wanted a pet. No dog, the building does not allow dogs and no cat, he's allergic and goldfish bore him. I should be glad he didn't get a snake," she laughed a womanly gurgle. "He got a rat."

"A rat?" Davy laughed. Charo's breasts quivered when she giggled and jiggled when she moved her arms and swayed when she took little dancer steps.

"Not a nasty rat, a fuzzy little black and white rat with a pink nose and round cartoon ears." She sighed and tsked. "I make him keep his rat in a cage, he isn't playing with it. I don't want to find the rat when I pick something up. But he plays with his rat all the time when he is home."

She held an imaginary rat in her hands and kissed the rat. Her ass wiggled and her boobies jiggled and she cooed to the rat. "He's a good rattie, isn't he?" She laughed her throaty giggle and kissed the rat repeatedly, extravagantly, lasciviously.

"Then," she said, "the rat aspired." We all looked blank. "You know, he died?" she explained.

We laughed and Charo giggled way down in her throat. "I was to worry. I took my son to a doctor, he doesn't like to go to doctors." Davy's grin got a little rueful. "And I tell the doctor, my son, he kisses the rat."

Again she kissed the rat, quickly, sweetly, gently, almost innocently. "On the mouth. Is my son going to catch something? And you know what the doctor said?"

We smiled at her and she smiled at us and Davy smiled at her tits.

"The doctor says my son killed the rat! The rat caught something from my son!" She shook her head vigorously and her boobies jiggled and Davy grinned.

Then she kissed the rat again. Softly, her lips lingering, she kissed the rat--a kiss goodbye. "My son, he has loved his rat to death," she said sadly.

The elevator reached the bottom finally and Charo hurried off--not without a trademark, shoulder-wiggling, bottom-waving, titty-jiggling farewell, though. We all loved Charo so much it almost hurt and we shouted our promises to watch her show at the telethon later.

"When she kissed the rat," Davy's dad said after she had left, "I thought mine would aspire, too."

"I'm pretty sure mine did," Davy said, his grin still wide.