dick and balls back. “And Jesus Christ, I swear you wait until I’m up here before you start to do that. You know how I feel about your genital manipulation, Sandy. For fuck’s sake.”
I grimaced as I continued to tuck. “Of course I don’t wait until you’re here to do this,” I grunted. “You just happen to have impeccable timing.” He didn’t. I always waited until I heard him coming up the stairs to the Queen’s Lair. His discomfort gave Helena power and she had no problem in feasting on his tears. “And why would Darren be rescuing puppies from zebras? And why the hell are they wet? Done. You can look now, you prude.” I stood, fixing the flesh-colored Spanx before closing my robe.
He quickly glanced at me to make sure I wasn’t fucking with him. I’d done it before, so I didn’t blame him. Once he saw that my dick and balls were firmly tucked, he rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to find a situation in which you wouldn’t be able to continue with your self-professed hate for him. And wet puppies are adorable.”
“Puppies and zebras aren’t going to change my mind,” I said, sitting in front of the ancient vanity against the wall. I turned on the lights around the mirror. I opened my makeup case and visualized pre-crazy Britney. It was important that I got the look right. Post-Justin Timberlake, not quite insane yet, but having the potential to go that way. It required thick mascara and a heavy kohl pencil and a bit of simmering rage in the eyes. Fortunately, Paul continued to bring up Darren, so the rage part was easy.
“Then you are a terrible person,” he said. “And you should really spend time looking within yourself to find out when and why your heart shriveled up and died.”
“I’m not listening,” I sang.
“Of course you are,” he said as he aired out the red vinyl catsuit I’d made for pre-crazy Britney nights.
“And why would the zebra be rabid?”
“Have you ever seen a rabid zebra?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
I glared at him through my reflection. “That doesn’t count as proving your point.”
“Or does it count completely?”
“As illuminating as this conversation is,” Charlie said from his stool on the balcony, “would you two shut the fuck up so Helena can get ready? You’re already behind schedule.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s not my fault, Daddy. Sandy kept giggling and blushing when Vince and I helped him load up for his set tonight.”
And that is pretty much true. For some reason, sucking dream Vince’s cock made me turn into a twelve-year-old girl around him. It was absolutely awful. He had grinned at me when I let them in the house and I had given a little screech and ran to my room. It had taken Paul and Corey five minutes to convince me to unlock the door and then another ten minutes of swearing that no one would ever tell Darren anything about this, for fear of evisceration.
“A queen is never late,” I told Charlie. “As my dear mentor and savior Vaguyna Muffman used to say, ‘A queen always arrives precisely the moment she’s meant to and not a minute sooner, so fuck off, you cockmongers.’” I sighed. “Such profundity. She was like the Che Guevara or Malcolm X of drag queens.”
“I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is,” Paul said.
“Vaguyna was also full of shit.” Charlie snorted. “God bless her.”
“You have to be,” I said, applying the eyeliner. “It’s one-third of being a drag queen.”
“And the other two parts?” Paul asked, though he knew it well.
“Sass and sex,” I said, smudging the kohl lines. “Don’t take more shit than you’re already full of, sass always with a razor’s edge, and positively drip with sex.” It was one of the first things Vaguyna had taught me when she’d taken me under her wing after a solid three months of nagging. I was very persuasive when I wanted to be.
Whatever else could be said was cut off when Vince and Kori came up the stairs
I grimaced as I continued to tuck. “Of course I don’t wait until you’re here to do this,” I grunted. “You just happen to have impeccable timing.” He didn’t. I always waited until I heard him coming up the stairs to the Queen’s Lair. His discomfort gave Helena power and she had no problem in feasting on his tears. “And why would Darren be rescuing puppies from zebras? And why the hell are they wet? Done. You can look now, you prude.” I stood, fixing the flesh-colored Spanx before closing my robe.
He quickly glanced at me to make sure I wasn’t fucking with him. I’d done it before, so I didn’t blame him. Once he saw that my dick and balls were firmly tucked, he rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to find a situation in which you wouldn’t be able to continue with your self-professed hate for him. And wet puppies are adorable.”
“Puppies and zebras aren’t going to change my mind,” I said, sitting in front of the ancient vanity against the wall. I turned on the lights around the mirror. I opened my makeup case and visualized pre-crazy Britney. It was important that I got the look right. Post-Justin Timberlake, not quite insane yet, but having the potential to go that way. It required thick mascara and a heavy kohl pencil and a bit of simmering rage in the eyes. Fortunately, Paul continued to bring up Darren, so the rage part was easy.
“Then you are a terrible person,” he said. “And you should really spend time looking within yourself to find out when and why your heart shriveled up and died.”
“I’m not listening,” I sang.
“Of course you are,” he said as he aired out the red vinyl catsuit I’d made for pre-crazy Britney nights.
“And why would the zebra be rabid?”
“Have you ever seen a rabid zebra?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
I glared at him through my reflection. “That doesn’t count as proving your point.”
“Or does it count completely?”
“As illuminating as this conversation is,” Charlie said from his stool on the balcony, “would you two shut the fuck up so Helena can get ready? You’re already behind schedule.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s not my fault, Daddy. Sandy kept giggling and blushing when Vince and I helped him load up for his set tonight.”
And that is pretty much true. For some reason, sucking dream Vince’s cock made me turn into a twelve-year-old girl around him. It was absolutely awful. He had grinned at me when I let them in the house and I had given a little screech and ran to my room. It had taken Paul and Corey five minutes to convince me to unlock the door and then another ten minutes of swearing that no one would ever tell Darren anything about this, for fear of evisceration.
“A queen is never late,” I told Charlie. “As my dear mentor and savior Vaguyna Muffman used to say, ‘A queen always arrives precisely the moment she’s meant to and not a minute sooner, so fuck off, you cockmongers.’” I sighed. “Such profundity. She was like the Che Guevara or Malcolm X of drag queens.”
“I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is,” Paul said.
“Vaguyna was also full of shit.” Charlie snorted. “God bless her.”
“You have to be,” I said, applying the eyeliner. “It’s one-third of being a drag queen.”
“And the other two parts?” Paul asked, though he knew it well.
“Sass and sex,” I said, smudging the kohl lines. “Don’t take more shit than you’re already full of, sass always with a razor’s edge, and positively drip with sex.” It was one of the first things Vaguyna had taught me when she’d taken me under her wing after a solid three months of nagging. I was very persuasive when I wanted to be.
Whatever else could be said was cut off when Vince and Kori came up the stairs
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