by Duncan More
She accepted the story, but presumed that like any normal twenty-two year old, they had slept together. But she still wasn’t satisfied. She may have been thinking she wanted to know more about this woman who slept with her son – a boy that after four years of college was not the same son she had raised through high school. Maybe this Gia was even good enough to become a daughter-in-law. It was her upbringing. She had only ever slept with Dillon’s father.
It was that second Tuesday night at the dinner table that her questions literally broke the camel’s back. There was no way he could keep up the pretense about Gia. He was tired of his mother’s questioning and told her Gia was a drag performer.
“So what you are telling us,” said his father, “is that you willingly went to bed with a cocksucker.”
“Not willingly the first night.”
“But you did.”
“Yes, two weeks ago on Friday. He was a friend who helped me out. I stopped in to thank him again for his kindness. That’s when I met him as Gia and he was performing. We talked, and yes, I ended up going back home with him as a friend. And yes, we did things together.”
“I don’t know about your mother, but I didn’t raise my son to be a guy who likes to sleep with faggots. That’s not the way things are to be. I think you’d better straighten out your mind in a hurry or find some other place to live and forget about calling this home.”
“Look. Much as I tried all through college, I was still a virgin when I left for Baltimore. This just happened. I don’t know yet what it’s like to sleep with a woman. At my age you already had. What were you – nineteen when I was born?”
“That was different. I was already madly in love with your mother.”
“Good for you. Good for me. That makes me just barely your bastard son. Sorry, Mom, but I figured that timeline out long ago. Anyway, let me get crass for just a minute. I’ve had blowjobs from girls and now one from a guy – and Eugene was a hell of a lot better.”
“So that’s your goal in life – to get a good blowjob?” his father exploded.
“No. I still want to get a job I like that pays well and I can make a lot of money. Same as I presume yours was. Just haven’t found anything around here since I got back.”
“What about a family?”
“Family? What about it? How come I don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“We planned on one and now I think that was one too many. A son who likes queers. Might even become one himself. Disgusting.”
“If that’s your attitude, fine. Just think of all the straight assholes you work with. How many times have you described them that way? Eugene is kind and considerate of others. Are you associates? Not according to your descriptions of them – selfish, conniving, backstabbing. I’ll be in my room, probably looking again for a job around here on line. Maybe I should even check the area north of Scranton. That’s where I met Eugene.” He rose from the table. “No thanks, Mom. I don’t want dessert. Good night.”
For the next hour he did a lot of thinking. He picked up the phone and texted, “Hey gorgeous, you want a little company for a week. Maine sucks. Worse than I do.”
Back came a terse message. “a week???? how about a lifetime! I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed and scrub out my omelet pan.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Dillon started packing his suitcase again. He disconnected his laptop and stored everything in the carry-all bag. Laded with everything, he made his way to the front door. “I’m going to Scranton to find a job and a life. You have my number. Call me if you want to talk.”
“Don’t you dare walk out that door! You walk out that door and that phone gets cancelled. I’m paying for it,” his father threatened.
He dropped his bags and headed for a notepad his mother always kept on the kitchen counter. He jotted down Eugene’s number. “Here, Mom. Use this number if you need to get in touch with me.” He picked up his luggage and headed to his car. He heard loud arguing inside the house as he started the engine. At the local mini-market he filled the gas tank before that credit card was cancelled as well. He checked his wallet and there were still three hundred dollars that he had planned to spend on his trip to Baltimore.
One quick text – possibly his last for a while simply said, “See you for breakfast. 9:30 now – 400 miles – figure 7.5-8 hours. :-)”
He headed his car to the Interstate and evidently a new life.
Chapter Six
The sun was just breaking the horizon when he saw the billboard ‘Welcome to Pennsylvania – State of Independence.’ He thought how appropriate the sign was considering his state. For the first time ever, he was independent – totally on his own. Well – not totally. He was going to be with Eugene. But he only had three hundred dollars to his name and knew he needed to find employment somewhere fast, but for the moment he needed breakfast more – breakfast that was only a little more than an hour away.
Now that it was bright enough to see farther, he pushed the gas pedal a little harder. There was no serious chance of finding a misplaced Bambi in his path as he traveled through this very rural, very forested section of the highway. He had seen two mangled corpses on the side of the road as he had navigated through New York.
He wasn’t sure if Eugene was out of bed yet, as it was still quite early in the day. As soon as he exited the Interstate, he pulled to the side of the road. He dialed Eugene’s number and was pleasantly surprised his phone still worked.
“Good morning, Sunshine. I got here a little earlier than I expected. Are you up and about yet?”
“I’ve been up for an hour awaiting your arrival. How soon?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Wonderful. The coffee is already percolating. Want me to have an omelet ready for you? You gotta be starved. You must have driven all night without stopping for anything.”
“Just a quick piss and a can of iced tea at a rest area. So many truckers pulled over.”
“You didn’t molest any of them, I hope.”
“Didn’t even think about it. I was coming to see you. Second thought. Screw the omelet, I’d rather meet you in the bedroom. Just leave the front door unlocked and get ready.”
“Not happening. It’s Wednesday – social security check day for many. I got a hectic day of work. You get some sleep and we’ll have one helluva romp as soon as I get home.”
“Damn! Well, I guess you’re worth waiting for.”
“Damn right! It could be the start of a seventy-two hour marathon.”
“Oooh! I like that even better. See you shortly.”
They had a leisurely breakfast together. Dillon told him all about admitting to his parents about their sleeping together and his father’s subsequent irate ultimatum. Eugene showed him to the guest bedroom, explaining that it was so hot the preceding night that his sheets were sweat-soaked from his tossing and turning and anticipation of Dillon’s arrival.
“Don’t worry. There are fresh sheets on the bed after Larry and Bill left. We can make a mess of them this afternoon. Right now, I’m going to work my butt off and you are going to get some much-needed sleep.” He straightened his tie in front of the mirror and gave Dillon a kiss goodbye, like any husband leaving the house for the office in the morning.
Dillon awoke to gentle whispering in his ear. “Sugar bear, wake up. Gia needs a little loving. No, make that Gia needs a lot of loving right now.”
He opened his eyes to see Eugene standing next to the bed, completely naked. “Gia?” he questioned as his hand gently massaged the hanging cock so close to him.
“Yes. I had no idea you were coming back. I committed to do another show Friday. Been two weeks. But that’s later.” Eugene yanked back the covers and crawled onto the bed. He was glad that Dillon had decided to sleep nude. Though he didn’t want to take his eyes off the cock he had fantasized all day about, he wanted the feel of Dillon’s lips pressing against his, feeling the rough stubble against his shaved cheeks, losing his soul in Dillon’s
green eyes, enjoying the ecstasy of Dillon’s body hugging his tightly together. All this and more he got to experience as they drove each other to climax. Not a hurry-up physical climax where self-satisfaction is the primary goal. It was caring for the other’s needs, especially for Dillon, as he had just given up his Maine life for this.
They spent the rest of the night in quiet conversation. And Thursday after work they talked even more, really getting to know and like each other on a deeper plane, while munching on tortilla chips and salsa and doing shots of tequila.
Friday, payday, was another hectic day at the teller window for Eugene. He couldn’t wait to get home to Dillon and find out how his day of job searching went. They were having a quick ham and veggie dinner that Eugene quickly whipped up when his phone rang. Dillon overheard the whole speakerphone conversation.
“I’m here at the Wayside. Where are you?”
“Fuck, Flame. I forgot we were supposed to meet and rehearse ‘Bosom Buddies’ but don’t you worry – I got everything I need for my leather dyke outfit. We will pull it off. I won’t get there until around nine-thirty. Something came up.”
“Oh yeah, who?”
“Dillon.”
“Oh shit, girl. You just take your time. See ya.”
“Come on. Finish up. We got to hurry. You can help me get dressed.”
Dillon followed Eugene to the bedroom for a quick education of prepping to be a drag queen. “Be right back. Last piss for at least four hours.” Dillon watched in amazement as Eugene went to his dresser and extracted what he learned was a gaffe. He saw Eugene push his balls inside his body and pull the gaffe up until the tip of his cock was nestled next to his asshole. Then on went a pair of the briefest black panties he had ever seen. He helped fasten the bra and handed him the birdseed-filled balloons. He was a bit surprised when Eugene slipped into a pair of blue jeans, a man’s dark blue denim shirt, and a leather vest. Eugene sat in front of the mirror and added a lot of black make-up around his eyes. On went a short black wig, a black leather motorcycle hat, and black boots. “Well, what do you think?”
“I certainly wouldn’t be trying to pick you up in that outfit. As a woman, you would scare the hell out of me.”
“That’s the point. Everyone does ‘Bosom Buddies’ as high class ladies. Flame and I decided to give it the butch dyke treatment. Should bring the house down. Know straight guys get off seeing two girls get into a real cat fight. We’re going to give them one. Do me a favor. There’s a basket near the front door. See if I packed my rubber knife in it.”
“Yeah, I found it,” Dillon shouted a few minutes later. “What the hell is this other stuff for?”
“Props for my other numbers.”
“A large lollipop, a banana, a rubber dick?”
“Yeah, I’m going gross on ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ so don’t be surprised or embarrassed when I do things with them.”
“What else are you doing?”
My last number is Toni Basil’s ‘Mickey’. We got this guy who’s pretty much a regular at the Way Station. His name is Mike Bonavena, and he’s always trying to hit on Darcy. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women and they all should go to bed with him. Gotta admit he’s kind of a hunk. Big and bulky ex-football player. Had a chance with the NFL but wasn’t quite good enough. Anyway, we’re going to call him to the stage, sit him in a chair and I’m going to have a little fun with him. I know he can handle it. After that number I’m done for the night. Too much physical exertion being a cheerleader.”
“Well, you’d better have some energy left. I’ve done top. Later it’s your turn. Besides, being strapped to your ass for a few hours, that baby is going to need to stretch itself out to its full length. You want me to drive? I can’t wait to see you as a bull dyke, a slut, and a cheerleader.”
“No, I’ll drive. As a performer tonight I can park in the rear – close to the back door.”
“The rear? The back door? I love when you talk sexy to me. I’ll be ready for you.”
Like a Broadway dresser, Dillon followed Gia into Wayne’s, carrying his outfits, his property basket, and make-up kit into the backroom bar area. He noticed Larry and Bill sitting at a table in the main bar and returned to join them as Gia finished prepping herself for Showtime.
“You’re back!” Larry exclaimed as Dillon joined them.
“Yep. This town is my new home. Things didn’t turn out too well when my parents found out I liked going to bed with Eugene.”
“Well, Maine’s loss is our gain. What you going to do here?”
“You mean besides sleeping with Eugene, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“I honestly don’t know. Going to have to find something.”
“I can still talk to my friend Lisa if you want. She’s opening her second salon just after Labor Day.”
“I don’t know. Seriously. Let me think about it.”
“Okay. What can you tell me about the outfit Gia was wearing? Looked like she just parked her motorcycle outside.”
“She and Flame are doing some number called ‘Boozin’ Buddies’.”
“I think you mean ‘Bosom Buddies’. It’s from another Broadway show.”
“That makes sense. Anyway, they are supposed to be bull dykes – whatever they are.”
“A bull dyke is a lesbian that’s manlier than ninety-percent of the guys in town. Stereotypically, short cropped hair, plaid flannel shirt, a take-no-shit-from-anyone attitude, never wears make-up, and probably can drink anyone under the table, and though normally big, she wouldn’t be caught dead in Lane Bryant, even to buy her girl a present. Standard joke is a bull dyke is a woman who kick-starts her vibrator. That’s the model. You see Marty over at the bar – third stool down? Blue jeans and denim shirt. That’s the closest we come around here. Of course, she’s at least fifty pounds underweight for a typical bull, but I wouldn’t want to mess with her. I’ll tell you a story though. Friend of a friend of mine came up from Harrisburg – really femme guy. Left here at closing and discovered he had a flat tire. Well, it was Marty and her traveling buddy Fran the Man who got that sucker changed for him in under five minutes. They just loosened the nuts, jacked it up, plopped the spare on, and he was quickly on his way back home.”
“Song presentation should be interesting.”
“I’ll say. Everyone does that number dressed to the nines. Furs and boas! That fancy! Can you tell me what else she’s doing?”
“I don’t know if I should. He probably wants them to be surprises since he said he was going off-the-wall tonight. But I will say one number includes lollipops and bananas and a rubber cock.”
“Oooh,” Larry said with a little excitement in his voice. “This sounds like it should be a fun show. Let’s head on back and get a good spot to see it. Maybe even get a dance or two in.”
“Count me out of that part,” Bill said. “I can’t be seen dancing with a guy. Everyone here would know about me. Right now they can only guess.”
“No one here gives a fuck.”
“I know. But someone here mentions to a friend who mentions it to another friend. I can’t take the chance. What if the word got back to the kids I teach? I could lose control if they knew their teacher was a fag, to use their word.”
“You need to reevaluate things. Eugene works in a bank, is openly gay, and performs as a drag queen.”
“Yes, but his job involves working with adults. I’m dealing with kids. Teen-age boys. Whole different ballgame. Look. I like being with you – boy, I really like being with you – but I just can’t be public about it. If you can’t handle that aspect of me, maybe I should just leave now.”
“No, don’t go. Please. Your ballgame. Your rules. No problem. No dancing. Guess I shouldn’t ask Dillon to dance then either.”
“Wouldn’t matter,” Dillon said. “I’m not a dancer.” Then he added, “Well, maybe a slow one with Eugene. I’m new in town and got nothing I have to hide.” He led the way to the back bar and dance flo
or and the others followed to await the start of the show.
The dance music stopped. A moment later the lights dimmed, and over the sound system came the opening words of a tune from Chicago: “Ladies and gentlemen/the Keeper of the keys, the Countess of the clink/The Mistress of murderers row/Matron Mama Morton” and the spotlight captured Flame in a complete prison guard outfit – looking much tougher than Queen Latifah in the movie. The crowd immediately broke into cheers and then roared when Flame approached Marty and her girlfriend in the crowd and camped up the line ‘tit for tat’.
While the concluding applause was dying down, Gia came on stage and kissed Flame on the cheek as the opening notes of ‘Bosom Buddies’ played. It was, as Gia had predicted, a totally new interpretation of the song, and the audience was hooting and hollering at the antics on stage: when Flame reached in her bra and pulled out a flask and took sneaky snorts and again when Gia reached in her boot and pulled out the knife and picked her teeth with it and later imitated cutting Flame’s throat. Then, with the line, “I’m so devoted,” Gia had her back to Flame and mimed jacking off. And then the wig tugging and on the floor wrestling as the song ended had the audience whooping and clapping loudly.
“I’m afraid we need a short break so the performers can switch into some of the classy dresses we’re used to seeing them in,” announced the deejay. “I’ve got two slow songs cued up for you couples and the rest of you can inundate Darcy for a quick refill. We’ll be back with the show shortly and from what I’ve heard, some of you should hit the men’s room because otherwise you’ll be pissing in your pants.”
The floor was sparsely covered with dancing couples as The Righteous Brothers’ version of ‘Unchained Melody’ played. Bill looked at Larry. “Oh man, I wish I had the balls to ask you to dance with me. Listen closely to the words.” When the line ‘I’ve hungered for your touch’ came up, under the table he quietly clasped Larry’s hand in his and smiled.