Drag Queen Beauty Pageant

by Malachite Splinters

  I frowned. “Who?”

  “A friend from the queer network on campus,” she said.

  “Oh, right,” I said. I was still struggling to come out with what I wanted to say. I didn’t know how Sue Ellen was going to react and if she criticized me… but I felt so guilty about this, I just couldn’t keep it in any longer.

  “It… turns me on,” I said.

  “What does?” Sue Ellen asked.

  I cleared my throat, my face burning. I couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t say it.

  “Like, because she has breasts now?” Sue Ellen asked. “And the other physical changes?”

  I stared out at the night sky and the twinkling lights. “Yeah,” I said, still unable to admit what I was trying to say. I was a far worse hypocrite than Marcus was.

  “I—I think that’s natural,” she said. “As you said, you like her as a woman. So of course you’re attracted to those feminine features that she has now.”

  “Right,” I whispered. I had told myself that I loved Damaris Rae as a woman. And I did. I did. “Her voice didn’t change, you know that,” I said. “She has to put on her voice.”

  “If you’re MTF,” Sue Ellen replied, settling into her lecture voice, “the voice changes caused by testosterone during puberty are irreversible. Some trans women undergo vocal training to modulate their vo—”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I know that. I overheard her shouting at Marcus in her old voice.”

  Sue Ellen was silent. Then she said, “Did that happen today?”

  “Yes,” I said, too angry to be embarrassed, too embarrassed to be ashamed of myself.

  “So, what are you saying?” Sue Ellen asked. “That makes her not a woman in your eyes? It makes her unattractive?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Does it destroy the illusion for you?” Sue Ellen said acidly.

  “It’s not an illusion,” I protested.

  “I know,” Sue Ellen said. “I’m playing Devil’s Advocate. Trans people battle that attitude every day. That their gender is just an illusion or a ruse.”

  “I never said that,” I said stubbornly. “I meant the opposite. I felt—even more attracted to her when I heard that.”

  “Ohhhh…” Sue Ellen trailed off.

  “What?” I said in alarm. “What does it mean? Please, tell me!”

  Sue Ellen sighed. “You seem very fixated on the physical side of things.”

  My face was burning with embarrassment. “I’m not fixated,” I said. Shame was starting to churn sickly in my stomach.

  “You’ve been talking nonstop about her hormones, the changes in her body, all of that stuff. But I don’t see why you’re making a big deal out of this,” Sue Ellen said. “So her appearance changed. She’s still just the same person inside.”

  “I know she’s the same inside.”

  “So,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Focus on that. What’s inside. Right now, she only needs your support and friendship. I don’t know her, I only talked to her a few times, mostly at that community center meeting, and was that a wash, but anyway, all of this is irrelevant as far as your friendship is concerned.”

  I sniffed. I was starting to cry again.

  “You know, I have a number of trans friends here, and I hear it over and over again. The physical stuff is not important. It should not be the focus of how other people and society perceive trans people.”

  “I know,” I said, weeping now. “I know it’s wrong. Damaris had a big problem with men who were coming to the club and trying to—you know—ask her out or touch her.”

  “Harassment?” Sue Ellen asked.

  “Yeah,” I said through my tears. “She told me they’re . Looking for a chick with a dick. She said, they don’t see you as human.” A sob hitched my chest. “They see you as an exotic fetish, a living sex doll.” I broke down into sobs.

  “Why are you crying?” Sue Ellen asked. “Did—was she assaulted by one of them?”

  I shook my head, but she couldn’t see that. Finally I got enough breath to say, “No. She just refused to do mingle duty any more and DT was okay with that.”

  “Oh,” Sue Ellen said. “Well, I’m glad she’s okay…”

  I found a tissue in my pocket and wiped my face with it. I was still hiccoughing.

  “You’re scared for her,” Sue Ellen said. “You’re concerned about her safety, aren't you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, although that wasn’t why I was crying. “She barely left the club even before she stayed in her room. And she didn’t go out at night, not ever.”

  Sue Ellen sighed. “She’s an African American trans woman. It’s dangerous out there for her.”

  I couldn’t bear to tell Sue Ellen the truth.

  I wanted to think I was so much better than Marcus, that I truly loved Damaris, that I truly respected her as a woman, when really I was just as bad as him, or maybe worse.

  I didn’t want Sue Ellen to think I was like them. The tranny chasers.

  “Well, is that everything?” She asked. “I need to do a bit more work before I go eat dinner.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks. Bye, then.”

  “Cheer up,” Sue Ellen said. “You’ll meet someone. You know, it always happens when you least expect it.”

  “Okay,” I said, just to get her off the phone. “Bye, Sue Ellen.”

  “Goodnight, Anthony.”

  I stood up, my muscles feeling tense after sitting on the hard marble ledge. I stretched and tried to stop the spasming of my chest.

  I felt even worse now. I was scum. I was a tangled mess of hair on a wig someone hadn’t put away properly, and the only solution was to cut it out before it made the other strands near it get tangled too. Cut it out, throw it in the trash, forget about it.

  That was what should happen to me.

  Yes.

  I wandered back into the bedroom and stood there, trying to figure out what to do. I felt too depressed to go and turn on the TV or stream something. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it.

  I peeled off my t-shirt, which Marcus had stroked. I unzipped my jeans, which Marcus had ground against. I pulled down my briefs, which Marcus had not come anywhere close to, thank God, or maybe not, I didn’t know.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be thanking God that once again, I hadn’t had sex.

  I pulled down the sheets and climbed into bed, inhaling the scent of clean linen and detergent. I tucked the sheets under my armpits.

  I lay back against the pillows and picked up my phone again. I turned off all the lights in the bedroom except the lamp on the nightstand. I left the curtains open. The night sky outside was midnight blue, and the winking lights of the buildings comforted me.

  It was so dark, it almost seemed like the space between me and the view was irrelevant, as if it was nothing but a void or a black hole of nothingness. The longer I stared, the more I started to feel as if I was floating, disembodied, looking out at the world and wanting to be part of it.

  I could see Marcus in my mind’s eye. I could see Damaris.

  I could see them slip into the storage closet, close the door. What would happen next? Would she get down on her knees? Or vice versa?

  I saw the bare bulb from the ceiling, the long pull chain which turned it on swinging and flicking against the bare MDF walls as he pulled the door closed and turned around.

  I bit my lip as my pulse started to beat in my groin.

  She was leaning back against the wall, her hands behind her back, her head cocked to one side, her eyes looking at him with a little glint and sparkle. He went to her and started kissing her lips, as he had done with me, and his hands went around her torso as they had done with me.

  I slipped my hand under the sheets and ran it down my abdomen until I felt the tiny nubs where my pubic hair was starting to regrow and I winced as my penis started to harden.

  She reached up her arms and twined them around his neck, and when she leaned forward into hi
s kiss, her breasts brushed against his chest and she let out a little sound.

  I gasped as the sensitive head of my cock pushed up against the bedsheets. I slid my hand down and grabbed the base and flexed my hips. I pulled my hand out from under the covers and spit on my palm, then returned it to my erection, coating it, and then I slid my hand down to massage my balls.

  Wait.

  Marcus felt her waist between his hands, and when his hands reached around to her back they felt her smooth, soft skin through the criss-cross straps of her crop top. That was the moment when Marcus started to doubt.

  Just wait.

  He hesitated, but she pulled him into her, hitching herself up and he lifted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, just as I had done.

  Just wait a little longer.

  And when she bore down on his crotch, trying to get him to grind against her, just as I had done, she let out a moan which she bit off halfway through, reaching for him more urgently now, taking his hand and smoothing it down her top, as Marcus had done to me, but where Marcus had felt my hard chest, hard bones just beneath the thin skin, with Damaris it was soft curves and her small breast, and when he touched it she arched her back, just as I had done, and she went, loudly, Oh.

  Oh, now—now—

  My eyes rolled back in my head as I took hold of myself and started jerking myself off. My erection was sticky with pre come and I was hard as a rock.

  Oh, Damaris—

  And that was the point where Marcus stopped.

  I would never stop—

  The point where Marcus took his hands off her and stepped away, let her down from the wall and tried to tell her he wasn't into her anymore.

  I would never stop if you wanted me to touch you, Damaris— never, ever stop—

  It felt so good, I knew I wasn’t going to last long. Those noises she had made echoed through my mind again and I felt a terrible pit of desire open up within me. I arched my back and thrust frantically into my hand.

  Oh—St Sebastian—I’m going to come—

  I saw Marcus’ eyes looking into mine and I heard his voice whispering in my ear.

  I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll think your cum was made of solid silver.

  I came so hard my butt lifted right off the mattress and I lay there, gasping.

  It started to sink in what had just happened. I had thought of Marcus when I came. I closed my eyes as the shame started to pour through me.

  I knew you didn’t really love her. The little voice in my mind whispered.

  “Fuck,” I whispered. I sighed and pulled the sheets back, taking some tissues from the night stand to scrub the come off the fresh linens. Then I went into the bathroom to wash my hands. I tried not to look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to see what would be looking back at me.

  I got back into bed and picked my phone up again. I went to Marcus’ chat, hating myself as I did it.

  Marcus: Hey, can we talk?

  Marcus: I feel bad about what happened

  Marcus: Please?

  I shouldn’t be doing this. But even though I had just come, I could still feel Marcus’ heavy weight on top of me, feel his erection pressing against my inner thigh, feel his hot breath in my ear, feel his hand running and down my chest, feel his mouth on mine.

  Anthony: Hey

  Within moments, the typing icon popped up. He was replying.

  Marcus: Hey

  I didn’t know what to say next. I didn’t know what I was doing. I really, really shouldn’t be doing this.

  The typing icon appeared again and I waited for his message to appear. The typing icon went away.

  After a few seconds, I put the phone down, feeling disappointed, and then feeling annoyed with myself for feeling disappointed.

  The the typing icon appeared again and my heart leapt. Why did my heart leap? That was ridiculous. My heart did not just leap.

  But when his next message appeared, it happened again.

  Marcus: Sorry to hear you’re sick

  I sighed in relief and typed out a reply.

  Anthony: It must be something I ate

  His reply came almost instantly.

  Marcus: When you’re better can we talk in person?

  Marcus: Will you be better tomorrow?

  No, no, no, I should not be meeting with Marcus alone. There was nothing to talk about. First of all, I didn’t like Marcus. Second of all, there was the fraternization rule.

  Oh, God.

  A terrible thought had just occurred to me. We had already broken the fraternization rule with what we had done today in Marcus’ apartment. I started typing as fast as I could.

  Anthony: Did you tell anyone?

  Marcus: No! No, of course not

  Oh thank god. If anyone found out—if Machyl found out—would this be enough to get one or both of us kicked out of House of Ellegrandé?

  Fear was suddenly pounding through me. If I got kicked out, would I ever see Damaris again? She hated going out into the city, so I didn’t see how I would be able to.

  An even worse thought occurred to me. She hadn’t spoken to me for the past three months after all. Would she even want to be friends if I wasn’t working at the club any more?

  You’re obviously the one who’s going to get fired, the voice whispered in the back of my mind. You can’t even stand on a stage and lipsynch.

  It was true. Marcus said himself that Duane Tyrone couldn’t afford to lose any of his performers.

  And I wasn’t a performer.

  So, as I knew already, I was extraneous. Unnecessary. And if DT even so much as suspected I had done anything wrong, I would be let go without a second thought.

  I couldn’t get kicked out. I had nothing else. I had stopped going to school a couple of months after I first met Damaris and I hadn’t graduated in June with everyone else.

  I quickly typed out a reply.

  Anthony: Ok good. Please don’t tell anyone

  Marcus: I won’t until you give me permission

  I frowned. I wasn’t going to give permission. This wasn’t a thing. I wasn’t going to fraternize any more. It was over.

  Then tell him, the voice whispered. Tell him you don’t want him.

  My jaw tightened. I bit my finger and started chewing on a hangnail.

  Marcus: I can’t stop thinking about it

  Fuck. My eyes opened wide as I felt, to my utter horror, the beat of my pulse starting up in my groin again. This is not happening.

  Marcus: I can’t stop thinking about you

  I clapped a hand over my mouth, then bit the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger. What if I just—what if I—

  What? The voice in my head crooned. You want to have sex with Marcus Fong?

  I nodded, horrified. Yes. I did. God help me, I wanted to have sex with him.

  He’s going to know, the voice hardened.

  I closed my eyes. I had been trying not to think about what Marcus had said as he crawled over me.

  They say you don’t date.

  They say you’re a virgin.

  Oh, St Sebastian. How did he know? I had never told anyone at the club—of course I hadn’t.

  I cringed as it occurred to me that it might have been obvious just from the way I kissed, that I had never done that before. I must have been awful. It must have been the worst kiss of his life.

  I started to fill up with shame, the sick and awful feeling behind my rib cage growing and growing.

  Had it been obvious, when I lay back on the couch, hot with arousal, and looked up at him in shock and awe, what a completely new feeling it was for me?

  It must have been. He must have known instantly.

  Again I wanted to cry. It was so embarrassing. Marcus must have slept with so many men that he could just tell by looking at a guy passing in the street how sexually experienced he was.

  And you’re going to go to him, the voice said archly. And beg him to fuck you?r />
  No. No. I certainly was not going to do that. I had walked out of that apartment with some shred of dignity intact, and I aimed to keep it that way.

  I picked up my phone, turned it off, and put it in the drawer of my nightstand.

  And then I turned off the light, and I was alone with nothing but my thoughts to torment me. I lay there, staring into the darkness, until exhaustion took me into sleep, and its forgetfulness, and I went willingly.

  Wall Phone

  I woke up. The light in the bedroom was mellow. The blinds were open and the city sky was gray. I pulled the covers over my head. Shouldn’t have looked.

  I had dreamed of Damaris dancing, dancing though the club, across the stage, just like the first time I saw her. I had dreamed of her smile flashing at me, white and bright as the glitter sparkles surrounding her, as bright as the light flashing off the giant mirrored disco ball slowly spinning overhead.

  But the dream was gone, and I was here, bathed in a bad feeling. The sheets were soft and fragrant and the room was silent and peaceful, the soundproofing cocooning me like cotton wool. But I wasn’t peaceful, and for a few moments I didn’t remember why I felt so bad.

  Then I remembered. Oh. That’s why.

  I wanted to close my eyes and go back to sleep and try to forget about it all, but when I retreated behind the blackness of my closed eyelids I could only see things I didn’t want to see, and the feeling only got worse, so I got up and got out of bed.

  The air was slightly too chill on my naked body and I felt exposed, suddenly, as if they were all looking at me, sitting lined up behind a long table like the panel of judges who watched the contestants at the Vivesse Fashion and Beauty Parade.

  DT caught sight of me and donned a pair of opera glasses, leaning forward to peer at me.

  Chicken legs, he said.

  Machyl, seated on DT’s left, smirked and cast a glance down either side of the table, then let his gaze travel up and down my body.

  I’d need a microscope to see anything down there, he said, then giggled and slapped his hand on the table.

  Marcus, next to Machyl, pushed his shoulder away. I think he’s cute. Look at that little bum.