by Cooper Davis
“I see. So that’s when? Next week?” I ask in my hyper-casual way, as I turn back to the closet, and act like this is just no big deal between us at all. Like Max isn’t saying he wants to dress up like a woman for me next week.
“Next Friday.” He steps a little closer, right up behind me. “But I don’t want to freak you out, and if the idea of that…that does, well maybe it’s too soon, or too weird,” he says in a rush of nervous words that cause my heart to ache. I never want him to feel ashamed of this, of what he wants. Not after all that he told me back in Winchester, about his desires and all. So I turn to him, placing my fingers over his lips.
“Max, I’m cool with it. I’m always cool with you, you know that.”
He just nods, gazing at the floor in silence, even though I know there’s a load more he wants to say about it. Maybe it’s how close we are now, but instinct tells me he’s fantasized about doing this for a long time.
“In fact,” I add huskily, stroking his hair. “I’m kinda turned on by the whole idea.”
His lovely eyes widen, and I know I’ve hit a bull’s eye. “Yeah?”
I run my hands over the tight material of his shirt, just feeling his chest appreciatively. “I mean, look what tonight’s visit to clubland is doing for me?” I breathe, stroking him down to his waist. “I can only imagine you all decked out in something of Louisa’s.”
“Veronica’s, actually,” he clarifies with a gentle smile. “A better fit.”
Yeah, come to think of it, they are about the same size. Veronica is long and tall, much more so than petite Louisa.
And that’s the only part of this set up that’s just flat weird. My boyfriend is going to dress up in my ex-girlfriend’s clothes? I’m living an alternative lifestyle now for real. Check.
“Or something brand new,” I suggest as sweetly as I can. “I’m down with whatever.” For a moment, I flash on Rodeo Drive again. Pretty Woman gains a whole new meaning in this context.
He cups my face within his palms, and draws my mouth down for the sweetest kiss. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, Hunter.”
Ah, love. It’s got me right by the balls, doesn’t it?
That next Friday night finds me tossing back beers while the wedding nazi grills me about unresolved issues on the phone. This, all while I’m trying to ignore the fact that Max and Louisa are behind closed doors, transforming him into a mass of slinky sequins and spiky heels. I know, because I saw the goods when Louisa brought them over earlier tonight.
“Hunter, can’t you just get Max over to Williams Sonoma?” Leah asks with a weary sigh. I know that planning our wedding must be a tiring affair, because what’s worse than trying to get one’s own groom to fall in line? The answer is two grooms you can’t seem to wrangle into place. Poor girl.
“Leah, he’s been working late every night,” I explain, staring at the closed door that leads to our bedroom. I’m out on the sofa, just wondering what the hell Louisa is doing to my boyfriend in there. “Honest, we’re not ignoring you, okay?”
“What about tomorrow? It’s a Saturday, you can go then,” she prompts. “You guys have friends who won’t make it to Vermont, and they’ll want to get a nice gift.”
I grin like a schoolboy, knowing I’m going to push her buttons as I say, “Yes, Herr Daniels.”
“What did you just call me?” she snaps tartly.
“The Wedding Nazi, actually. That’s my new name for you, Leah.” I slip into Max’s pet nickname for her without even meaning to, and while I hear a little intake of breath at my somewhat derogatory joke, I think she probably liked the familiarity.
“Oh, please,” she finally says. “I’m not that bad.”
I hear the bedroom door opening, and say, “Oh, Leah, gotta go. Talk to you later,” and before she’s even finished I’ve hung up the phone.
But it’s Louisa who appears in the doorway, not Max, and her face is drawn into something of a worried scowl. “What’s wrong?” I demand.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” she says with a sigh, closing the door behind her. Then she walks to me, taking me by the arm and quietly says into my ear, “He looks unbelievable, Hunter. So unbelievable, that it’s freaking him out a little.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitates a moment, not looking at me, then whispers. “He looks convincing, Hunter. Very convincing, that’s what I mean. And I think he’s afraid of how you’ll react to that.”
Convincing? Now why the hell doesn’t that surprise me one bit?
“I think he needs a little reassurance from you, you know?” she explains.
“Sure thing.” I nod, but my heart is beating like a fucking traitor. I’m not an idiot; I know that if he looks as beautiful as I imagine he would, that this is going to play holy havoc with his sexual identity, and might even awaken some of his hometown demons. Maybe this idea was terrible, after all. Then again, if I can back him up here, if I can give him what he needs, this might heal a lot of things that still haunt him.
I follow Louisa, feeling incredibly nervous as we enter the bedroom.
And then I see him. The love of my life, kind of standing there in the dressing area that leads to our bathroom. Mirrors line the closet doors and I see the convincing evidence in every direction.
He’s a goddamned gorgeous woman. Breathtaking, absolutely. It certainly doesn’t take a college degree to get why this has him so freaked out.
Louisa steps behind him, just kind of rubbing his back with gentle reassurance, and I step close in kind.
“Wow, baby,” I say, ignoring the crazy tempo of my heart. Ignoring how much this terrifies me, seeing him all decked out this way.
He won’t even look at me, just keeps staring at the ground, so I haven’t really seen the makeup. All I’ve seen is the long-sleeved, black sequined dress, kind of a Christmas cocktail outfit. Which makes sense because it’s the first week of December. Hell, got to hand it to my boy, he’s not only dressed to the nines, he’s dressed for the season.
The outfit clings to his body, to his narrow little hips and to Veronica’s aqua bra. Convincing doesn’t cover this, no fucking way. Especially not when he finally gives me an uncertain glance, and I see the truth.
The golden eyes have become girlish and cat-like now that they’re lined in dark green, and highlighted by a similar shade of eye shadow. But it’s the luscious mouth that’s utterly kissable, all dark pink with lipstick that Louisa has obviously applied with great care.
Or maybe it’s the way Louisa has fastened his hair on both sides, so that it curls perfectly within tiny black sequined combs. She must have used rollers, because his naturally wavy hair is just a mass of sexy curls.
Louisa hugs him from behind. “I think you look awesome, Max,” she says again. “What do you think Hunter?”
“That I can’t breathe.” I don’t even think before I say that, and he blushes wildly.
“I wasn’t expecting to look so…” He hesitates, glancing back at Louisa. “Well, so, so feminine.”
“What’d you expect then?” I ask, serious. I mean, he wanted this, didn’t he? “You’re in drag. That’s the whole point.”
“I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Does it look like I’m scared?”
Slowly, he smiles, and that’s when he really takes my last breath away. “Not actually, no.” His voice has changed, that’s the weirdest part. It’s pitching a little higher, a little more breathy in its timbre and I know he’s not even doing it on purpose. I shiver a little, and half expect to hear a good version of “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”.
Louisa drops to the ground, touching his legs. They’re the only part that gives the whole act away. “You know, Max, you should shave. Really. Not just your legs, but your arms, too.”
She runs her hands over his calf for emphasis, and it�
��s funny because it would be a sexual gesture if it were between Max and me. But Louisa seems more like she’s a seamstress or something, kneeling there beside him in the dressing room.
He looks to me and I nod encouragingly. “Go for it, Maxine.” I pat him on the ass with a flirty little wink and walk right out of that room.
In fact, I walk right out of the room, straight to the fridge, grab two more beers and guzzle them without taking a breath.
I’m on my third beer, clicking between basketball games, when Max steps into the living room, holding Louisa’s hand.
Now, with the legs all shaved, and teetering in two inch sequined pumps, he’s finally done me in. I can’t think of a goddamned thing to say, except that he looks fantastic.
I’m glad the lights are low, because it allows the illusion to really take hold of me, as I just kind of stare up at him, squinting. There’s something going on with Louisa, though, because they’re way into the whole silent communication thing. I’m confused by it, especially when he turns to her, and does something I’m definitely not expecting.
Max cups her small face within his hands, just like he always does mine, and leans down and kisses her full on the mouth. There he is, dressed all like a woman, and I swear he’s kissing his best girlfriend. And it’s not a friend kiss, either. What I watch play out there in the middle of our living room is deep and passionate, and my blood goes wild with jealousy.
Until finally it breaks, and then he just strokes her hair, their foreheads bent together. She’s crying, as he says, “Thank you, Louisa. So much.” That’s when I get that there’s no point to my possessive thing at all. Still, I’m definitely curious.
She just nods, wiping at her eyes. “You gave me the most amazing gift any friend could ever give,” he says. “You helped me find myself, you know that, don’t you?”
Again, she nods and then he kisses her on the forehead, whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she says, smiling through the tears. “Here, you smudged the lipstick a little,” she says, rubbing at his mouth and they laugh together.
The beers make everything a little fuzzy, but I think I understand it now. This whole cross-dressing affair has brought out something between them tonight. While I wasn’t privy to the actual conversation, I gather that they’ve talked about him figuring out his sexual identity when they were together. It never occurred to me, but it had to have hurt her, that he went to play for the opposing team like he did while dating her.
And that makes it even more meaningful that she’s the one who dressed him tonight. She’s been his handmaiden in this whole gay thing, the one who helped him understand himself.
But what that kiss just did was show her that she’s a beautiful, sexy woman, and that his change had nothing to do with her. No wonder he chose a moment when he was dressed as a woman to lay one on her like that.
“Meet Maxine Daniels,” Louisa introduces with a flourish, and I give a low whistle.
Max has the nerve to turn to me then, and look unbelievably shy, just kind of fluttering his lashes and staring at me with those ultra-sexy eyes. Tonight, they’re girl’s eyes and it’s going to make me half-mad before we make it home again.
Then he licks his lips and moves toward me, and I think Louisa must have coached him on this. Because he’s not moving like a man; I’ll be damned if he’s not walking with the grace of a freaking debutante.
Oh, just luscious.
“You like it?” he asks, the voice soft and breathy.
“Louisa, you gotta go, babe,” I tease, winking at her. “I need to get this girl out on the town.”
She laughs, and then does something that surprises the hell out of me. She leans low and kisses me on the forehead. “I love you, Hunter,” she says. “You’re an amazing person.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“Yes, that would be the appropriate answer.” She laughs, her eyes still shimmering with tears as she opens the door to leave.
“Have fun, you two.”
Oh, we’ll definitely be having fun, I think with a wicked grin. Because now it’s just Maxine and me, at least until Brian comes knocking on our door.
At the club is when the whole role-playing thing really hits its stride. I spend very little time with Max, mostly just watching him move around the club. He’s at the bar, drinking a Kir Royale, or he’s standing at the railing alone, taking in the scene. He doesn’t want to be with me precisely, he just wants to be watched by me. I can be down with that, because he’s damned amazing to look at.
The funny thing is, it kind of falls to Brian and me to do that watching. Peter is in drag too, so Brian and I are playing the macho roles tonight. Too bad for Brian, but Petunia over there just doesn’t make nearly the lovely woman that my Maxine does. Hell, looking around the club, there’s nobody that looks as sexy as my love.
That does make me feel territorial, because I see all the guys checking Max out. “She’s beautiful,” Brian breathes appreciatively, and I’m caught off guard.
“Who?” I look around for a woman at this mostly all-guy club.
“Maxine.” He nods toward the bar where Max is sidled up with another Kir Royale, holding the glass just like a girl.
Okay, this is getting weird. He just called Max “she”.
“Max?” I ask, trying to get a handle on all that’s going down.
He shakes his head in disagreement. “You left Max at home tonight, buddy.”
My heart is starting that insane tempo again. I think I’m really gay now, because this has gotten totally surreal. “Guess so,” I grumble.
“It’s the game, Hunter. You got to play it right. It’s what they like.”
“They?”
“When they cross-dress, they want to play it all the way, really do the role, you know?” Okay, so now I’m getting a crash course in how to be a successful queer from the king of the gaytraders.
“Oh, well, thanks for clarifying that,” I snap. Of course, my reaction has nothing to do with the way Brian’s been staring at Max all night long. He’s not staring at his own damned boyfriend that way.
“Look, I know you’re new to all this,” he says, and I hate the jealousy that’s knotting its way all through my stomach. “Just thought I’d explain a little.”
“Yeah, well you know, keep your explanations to yourself,” I bark, feeling incredibly sulky as I watch Max laughing with Peter, looking so amazing I can hardly stand it. I’m captivated by the way his legs are kind of dainty with those pumps, the way they emphasize his strong calf muscles, yet make him look all girlish and curvy at the same time.
Brian turns to me, a little shocked. “What’s the problem, Hunter?” he asks with honest confusion. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“You’re way too interested in Max.” Go me! I finally put it out there.
“What are you talking about?” he laughs, shaking his head. “Max is my good friend.”
“Like hell,” I say, staring out at the dance floor. “You’re into him.”
“Hunter, you’re talking crazy. Max and I were over long ago, before we even got started.”
“Oh, that’s not what Max said.”
“No?” He seems genuinely curious now.
“He was smitten with you, that’s what he told me. Smitten.” I draw the word out for massive emphasis.
Now Brian’s just smiling, shaking his head in amusement. “He broke up with me, you know,” he says and that’s when I realize he’s staring at Peter while he talks. Not Max. “After telling me all about his straight best friend, the one he just couldn’t shake. The one he thought about constantly, but had no idea how to ask out, or feel out, or whatever.”
“He told you about me?”
“Yes, Hunter. In fact, you owe me a little thank you, I believe.”
“What for?” But I think I al
ready know what’s coming next.
“Because I’m the one who told him to ask you out.”
Now why the hell didn’t Max ever supply this handy bit of information? But then I remember how pleased he was with me being all jealous, how much it seemed to light him up. The little bastard, he’s let this possessive streak in me simmer for a long damned time.
“Never knew that,” I say, nodding like a dope, and feeling completely mortified.
“I told him that if he didn’t, he’d wake up one day and his straight best friend would have a wife, two kids and a mortgage, and he’d have lost his chance forever.”
Okay, it’s true. Not only are John Ramirez and Max’s clingy T-shirt my two new best friends, but Brian Edwards’s name has just been added to that growing list.
“Thanks, man,” I mumble, staring down into my beer glass. “I owe you big time.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just didn’t want you thinking I was after Maxine or anything. Although she is a pretty little piece of tail.”
“Well if you lay a hand on her, I’m kicking your ass.”
“There you go,” he grins. “You got it now. Defending your girl’s honor and all that.”
“Maxine’s mine, man.”
Who knew? Not only is Brian a total standup guy, he’s funny as hell, too. Good thing I’m already in love.
And, man, am I in love, I think when Maxine cozies up next to me. “Hey, sweet thang,” I purr in her ear, slipping my hand around her waist. “Can I take you home tonight?”
The golden eyes narrow and she leans right against me, looping her hands around my neck. Pure kitten, and I want to lap her all up. “Counting on it, sweetheart.”
“Good. Soon though, okay?” And I sound every bit as desperate as I feel, fingering that sequined waist beneath my calloused fingertips.
Soft, girlish voice in my ear, she says, “I’m betting that forty-five minutes from now, we’ll be making love.”
Now how’s a guy supposed to resist a come on from a girl like that?