“Where does the peach come in?” Mer asked, tossing her blonde locks behind her head as she moved closer to the story telling.
“Once the Duke and his concubine were walking through the orchards, and the Duke remarked he would enjoy a fresh peach. Upon hearing this, the brave concubine risked all to scale to the top of the tree and bring down the ripest fruit he could find.”
“That doesn’t seem all that dangerous to me,” Dickie commented. “I used to climb trees all the time!”
“Ah, but this man was a chosen Imperial Concubine! They were praised for their perfection in every way. A simple scratch on the face would mean being cast aside. His life depended on his beauty, because Imperial Concubines were not freed when their usefulness came to an end.”
“They would have killed him?” Cara guessed. “Is that fucked up or what?”
“Well, he loved his Duke so he risked all to see his every desire satisfied.”
“Is this a true story?” Dove asked, looking as if she didn’t believe a word.
“Oh yes,” Shen informed her. “His name was Duke Ling of Wei and his concubine was named Viscount Mizi Xia. And his concubine retrieved the peach and then bit into it to test its freshness before he gave it to his master. He would have climbed yet another tree if the fruit hadn’t been sufficiently ripe.”
“Wow.” Mer giggled. “That is true love!”
“True foolishness,” Cara commented. “So what happened to him anyway?”
“Well, in Imperial China, when they speak of love between two men, a deep abiding love, they call it dividing the peach, after how the brave concubine risked his life to satisfy a simple craving. But…”
“I knew there was a but,” Cara sighed.
“There almost always is,” Shen agreed. “But as he grew older, his beauty began to fade and the Duke became displeased with his aging lover.”
“How sad,” Dove sighed, shaking her head despondently. “Men are animals!”
“Very sad,” Shen agreed. “Especially since the concubine was eventually done away with, but we choose to remember and celebrate the love of the concubine for his Duke.”
“Who is this we?” Cara snorted. “Because if it was me, I would have been putting in my complaints with the union!”
“We, the Concubines of the Imperial Court.” Shen smiled.
“No way!” Dickie denied, her eyes wide in amazement.
“Would you not like to know?” Shen giggled as he picked up his lyre and made his way to the center of the stage.
They stood transfixed by his graceful movements as he positioned himself just so, and began to tune his instrument. After a few seconds, a beautiful, melodic sound, the sound of tinkling bells and gently falling waterfalls, filled the air.
Then Shen began to dance, taking small, graceful steps, a traditional court dance. He turned and paused to pose as his fingers kept up the rolling, distorted, genuinely Asian sound of the music.
Then he began to add the words, his voice rising and falling with rolling, slightly flat tones.
He looked like a fragile china doll as he danced and posed, always pausing to show his best features to his audience, the ultimate in genteel femininity.
Finally, he brought his song to a close with a bowing curtsey that brought him inches from the ground, a position he held, showing both flexibility and strength as he waited for his audience’s acknowledgement.
All was silent for a moment, and his knees were beginning to feel the strain, when Caramello spoke. “Hot damn, honey! I don’t know if the yahoos that invade this place are worthy of that!”
Smiling, Shen delicately straightened and gave a bow. That seemed to be a signal, as all the watching queens began to clap madly.
“Oh, darling,” Dove gushed, giggling. “I wish I had that much talent!”
“It is nothing more than what I was trained to do,” Shen denied, showing another attribute of a perfect concubine -- humility.
“I can almost believe your claims!” Cara laughed, shaking her head. “That was perfect! Do that tonight! We’ll get you some low tables and a waterfall backdrop. You’re perfect! Don’t change a thing!”
“And you had better not be looking for a master here,” Trevah groused though she grudgingly clapped her hands. “Doing that shit in this country is illegal!”
“I have a lover!” Shen snapped, growing tired of the low-class prostitute. “I have no need to peddle my wares!”
“I’m not a prostitute!” Trevah shouted, glaring at the queens in the room, daring them to say anything.
“But you wanted to charge me for merely satisfying a curiosity,” Delsin felt obligated to point out, which shifted the weight of Trevah’s death glare squarely onto him.
“And you can stare all you want to, beyswa, I will still not pay for the dissatisfaction of touching your limp cock and substandard balls.” Whore, he thought, beyswa!
“They are not substandard!” Trevah screamed, face going red again.
“Maybe by your standards…” He trailed off as the room again exploded into laughter.
“Settle down,” Cara demanded, chuckling under her breath. “And don’t glare at me, Trevah. Your bark don’t scare me, child. Try that with someone who may give a damn.”
Trevah rolled her eyes and huffed, but remained silent.
“Now, what are you going to do?” Cara asked Del as Shen walked over to join them, his lyre carefully cradled in his arms.
“I thought I would do a dance!” he piped in cheerfully. “It is a dance befitting the descendent of a god.”
“We get a story too?” Dove asked, smiling at the bubbly, longhaired man who resembled a picture out of the Kama Sutra.
“No, no stories, just a lot of destruction.”
“Don’t be busting up my sets, girl,” Cara warned, staring sternly at Del, wondering what he could be up to.
“No, Shiva, the goddess of destruction. That is who this dance is in honor of,” he explained.
Smiling, he placed his CD player on top of the piano and hit play.
Kicking off his sandals, he made his way to center stage and struck a pose, both arms held before his body, right on top of left, palms outward, his head tilted to the side and a seductive smile on his face. The music started, and Del’s hips began to sway.
Snapping his fingers, he gave a small leap, bending low, his boobs pulling at the halter-top, and he took a moment to be amazed at the fact that the adhesive held. Then he was up and spinning, twirling gracefully as a top, rolling his hips and snapping his fingers.
He slowly circled as the sitar, the drums, and the violin filled the stage with the exotic sounds of the East.
Still smiling, Del swung his arms into arches. Each movement thrust his bust out as he bent low and began to undulate his body.
His hips rolled in time to the music, moving faster and faster. He seemed to be having sex by himself on the stage.
Faster and faster he spun, leaning backwards until his head almost touched the ground and he was covered in a waterfall of his own black, silky hair. Then he was rising up and spinning around, his hips moving incredibly fast. His hair flowed and shimmied around him, emphasizing the feminine sexuality of his moves as he manipulated his sweat-sheened body.
Then as the last cymbal clashed, he tossed his hair forward, veiling his body for a second before tossing it all back to expose himself fully, then twisting to the side and striking a pose.
Almost immediately, the room filled with applause as Del rose to his feet, breathing hard, and took a bow.
“Perfect!” Caramello gushed. “It looks like I’ll have a full stage again, ladies! No more doubling up on your acts.”
“I’m so pleased that you are pleased,” Del panted, blushing a bit as he repaired his clothing. “It pleases me to please others.”
“Just so long as you keep it clean.” Trevah sighed, giving up on her ire and smiling at the newcomers. “And I’ll have my eyes on you.”
“And mine wil
l be on you,” Shen decided after a moment. “And maybe I can give you some tips so you won’t look so… what is the term? Ah! Trailer trash!” He smiled politely. Trevah stopped grinning, turned, and stormed off the stage.
“What?” he asked as everyone turned to stare at him. “The leather does not work this time of day and, as a prostitute, she needs to seduce her customers, not scare them into submitting to the removal of their undergarments.”
After everyone’s laughter calmed down, Shen remembered the rest of their plan. “My boyfriend is coming,” he said.
“Fine, Shen,” Cara said. “Just so long as he behaves himself.”
“Oh, Rika is not the jealous type,” he said with a grin. “He is more technical than anything.”
“And he will be bringing Nalu.” Del nodded. “I like muscle!”
The ladies tittered and giggled as they cleared the stage, leaving Cara to shake her head indulgently and pray nothing would happen to these two.
They were so much like Peppa and Quim it was scary!
Chapter Five
“What have you got?” Shelby asked, a grin on her face that made her look like the cat who swallowed the cream.
“Apparently not what you got,” Rika snickered.
But at Shelby’s deteriorating good humor, he cleared his throat and turned back to his computer screen. “Like I told Shen and Del, the two queens who were snatched were very talented and very feminine. Del and Shen match their descriptions perfectly, if you are looking at a serial snatcher.”
“Why am I not getting a good feeling about this?” Shelby watched the information scroll down the screen.
“I’m loading for bear.” Rika tore his eyes away from his boss and back to the information he had been able to retrieve. “Both men, Peter Aimslu, a.k.a. Peppa, and Quimbley Ricter, a.k.a. the Mighty Quim, were both of foreign descent and small in stature. They were both very thin and as I stated, very fem. I mean, they look more like women than you do.”
At Shelby’s scowl, he pressed a few keys and brought up two different windows with two very different females. “Those are the queens,” he stated, and Shelby’s mouth dropped open in shock.
Both of them were more feminine than any man had a right to be. “Where are the Adam’s apples?”
“Some men have small ones, but it appears that both Peppa and Quim had extensive hormone therapy before puberty hit.” Rika shook his head. “And damned if I wouldn’t still do both of them.”
“Damn,” Shelby breathed. “I would be jealous! They’re absolutely gorgeous!”
Peppa was a short, dark-skinned seductress with shoulder-length, glossy hair, a set of dark, sultry eyes, and high cheekbones. Her lips were thin but well formed.
Quim was a golden-skinned beauty with a broad grin and dancing brown eyes. Her hair flowed around her neck, framing a grinning face, and good humor showed in her flashing eyes. Both were extremely feminine and exotic in their own way.
“They both turned up missing at the same time?” Shelby asked, staring at the screen and wondering if it was time for her to get her own hair styled again. Maybe she could do with some teeth whitening as well.
“No, they were taken a few weeks apart.” Rika began to type rapidly again. “According to the reports, the chief of police stated it was not a concern. Entertainers disappear often, getting better offers, or different job opportunities. Shelby, this guy is a prick.”
“That’s the chief for you,” Shelby sighed. “And when the second disappeared?”
“That would be Peppa, and when Peppa dropped off the face of the earth, he said it was a coincidence.”
“Nice of him.”
“Preliminary investigation, and that is it.”
“And now that a third is gone?”
“It is getting a bit of press, but he keeps falling back on his ‘these people’ stance.”
“Any news on the third?”
“No, but I have my feelers out. If anything comes across the wires, I’ll know.”
“Good.” Shelby sounded relieved. “And what equipment are you taking over tonight? I won’t feel comfortable until my boys are wired for sound and have some failsafe measures on them.”
“Okay, I have a set of trackers that fit on the skin. I can put them under the prosthetic boobs.” He paused to snicker. “Or I can use some artificial skin in an area that they are not going to be paying too much attention to.”
“Like in the groin?”
“You got it, baby. A place only a special friend will venture.” Rika’s British accent sounded more proper as he rattled off his statement with a wink in Shelby’s direction.
“What else?” Shelby managed to hold back her laughter at Rika’s antics.
“I have some voice-activated one-way radios, the usual two-way in a broach or a pin, and I have a few panic buttons in some rings. I told you, Shelby, I don’t feel good about this one at all, so I’m going to ensure someone is in contact with them every second.”
“That bad, Barika?” All humor dropped off her face.
“That bad.”
“What has Raidon managed?”
“He’ll be in later, but there are several groups… trafficking in white slavery.”
“No murder or…”
“Shelby, from an international standpoint, these guys are very valuable. Several Eastern countries pay big bucks for what they consider marketable commodities. No bodies have shown up, no ransom notes, and these guys have impeccable backgrounds with nothing throwing up flags. And I have a gut feeling these men are still alive.”
That was good enough for Shelby. “Okay. Keep on it and get ready to go and visit the guys. While you’re there, get the names of any suspicious people and start dossiers on all of them. I want my Angels safe more than I want those others found, as mean as it is for me to say.”
“You got it.”
Barika turned back to his work more intently than before.
“God, let my boys be okay,” Shelby whimpered, before she was once again lost in the day-to-day operations of Angels.
* * *
The girls herded Shen and Del back into the dressing rooms, giggling and asking questions as they went.
“Who taught you to move like that?” Dickie asked Del as the longhaired man flounced into the room and collapsed onto the vanity bench he claimed as his own.
“It was required as part of my station.” He picked up a hairbrush and began the arduous task of brushing out his hair.
The rest of the queens followed suit, plopping in front of their tables and repairing what the practice run had mussed.
“Your station?” Mer arched one eyebrow, looking over her shoulder at Del.
“My station as a descendent of a god.”
Mer shrugged and picked up her makeup brush. Who was she to talk about another’s delusions? She tried to hide the fact that she was the son of a steel worker and had a nine-inch cock stuffed into her thong.
“And we know Shen was a concubine.” Dickie laughed.
“Of course.” Shen smiled at their antics. “Singing and dancing is one thing any concubine worth their training will excel at.”
“Right,” Dove said with a grin. “And you can teach me later. I have a date.”
“Who are you going out with tonight?” Mer questioned as she gave herself more eyes with a liner and a silver metallic brush. “That guy who was tossing hundred dollar bills on the stage?”
“How did you ever guess?” Dove giggled.
“Dove…” Dickie began, her eyes turning cold and serious. “You know something happened to the other girls. You’ve got to be careful!”
“I know, but this guy’s cool. His name is Kent Lester. He’s a congressman, you know.”
“I still don’t trust him,” Dickie growled, only to have Shen cut in.
“You mean Kent with the black eyes and the salt-pepper wings at his sideburns?”
“Yeah,” Dove said, turning to Shen, a question in her eyes.
�
��Well, then he is safe! Just remember to bring a belt -- he likes to be spanked.”
“What?” Dove’s arched eyebrows went even higher.
Shen chewed delicately at his bottom lip, just for a second, before he remembered to protect the softness of his lips. “And ignore it when he calls you mommy.”
“How do you know?” Dove asked.
“Because I dated him once. He only has a four-inch cock, but it never went beyond the spanking because he came after three strokes of the belt.”
The room exploded in laughter and Dove’s face turned an interesting shade of pink. “Damn, Shen! Thanks for blowing my night!”
“He is good for blowing,” Shen recalled, and the room erupted into laughter again. “But get him to blow you first. Two seconds after he comes, he falls asleep.”
“Damn!” Dove sighed as the laughter continued unabated.
“But he will take you out for a nice meal,” Shen added. “So at least you have that.” He nodded as if that made everything okay and began to apply a more intricate makeup job.
“Shen, is there anyone in this town you haven’t slept with?” Del chortled.
“I do not sleep with them all, Del.” Shen’s voice was prim and proper. “I only sleep with a select few, though I’ll allow many to take me out for meals and appropriate entertainment.”
“Go, baby!” Dickie crowed as she rose to her feet and patted Dove on her shoulder consolingly. “At least you’ll get a fine meal.”
“Thanks, guys!” Dove rolled her eyes. She plucked a small purse from under her table. “I’ll just have the thought of him calling me mommy and exploding in his jocks stuck in my head as I stare him in the face over dinner.”
Shelby’s Angels: Sometimes I’m Not Page 4