by Duncan More
“Okay, folks, clear the floor. The performers are ready.” He dragged the last word out to at least several syllables longer than the word deserved. Then Gia came skipping onto the stage carrying a basket as if going to a picnic. She looked like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. During the first part of the song ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’, she unwrapped and seductively licked the three-inch round lollipop. Next came a banana which she licked and at an appropriate point peeled it back and deep-throated the fruit. And as the end neared, out came the rubber cock which she forced her head down on. Gay guys were applauding and straight guys looked at their girlfriends and wondered if that’s the kind of fun they would have later. The lesbians were not too amused but still appreciated the performance.
Dressed in a yellow and black polka-dotted outfit with a puffed out short skirt, Flame was next as she carried a small folding chair to the center of the stage. “I know Wayne is somewhere in the building. I need him to come and sit down on the chair for the next number. Will you find him and get his horny buns up here?” Although he tried to avoid the spotlight, Wayne had no alternative but to acquiesce. He stepped forward and sat. “I know the big day is not until next Tuesday, but I couldn’t wait. Okay, Mr. DJ, hit it.” He performed The Tune Weaver’s ‘Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby’ sitting on his lap, rubbing an inflated bosom against his face, draping him in a fluffy black boa, and ending the song showering him in fresh condoms. The audience loved the number and Wayne was about to leave the stage when the deejay played the traditional birthday song and everyone started singing. His wife approached, carrying in one hand a small cake with a sparkler in it, and a bottle of champagne in the other. She gave him a kiss, handed him the cake, and turned and whispered a thanks to Flame. She took the microphone, and in a very pleased voice, announced, “Just want you all to know there’ll be a much larger cake and a glass of champagne in the front bar after the show for all of you. Have a great night. I know I will.” She picked up one of the condoms and waved it high above her head as she led Wayne from the stage.
A few in the crowd heard him mutter to her, “You know I’m going to get you back for this, don’t you?” They also saw the huge smile on his face.
“Mike. Mike Bonavena. Please report to the stage.” Rather pleased that he was getting some kind of honor, Mike weaved his way to the front of the stage carrying a full shot of tequila. “Please be seated,” directed the DJ. “The performers know you really feel you’re a hit with the babes that come in here. That you’re just the guy for the girls who want to have fun.”
“Damn right! I sure am. Good for the long ride,” he shouted as he downed the shot. It was obvious to all that he had had more than one tequila shot.
“Please sit back down, Mike, and remain seated for the entire performance, like a chick in the bathroom.”
“There’s a chick in the bathroom that wants me?”
“No, Mike. Just stay seated. Gia has a special song for you. Just for you.”
Gia came out in a cheerleader outfit emblazoned with the GHS letters and school colors as Toni Basil’s ‘Mickey’ began. Complete with pompoms, Gia mimicked the first part of the video and then started her own choreography. She caressed him from behind and everything was cool. He was loving the attention. Everything was fine when Gia held his hand and even when she placed them on her fake boobs. However, when she sat on his lap and started bouncing up and down on the line ‘I’ll take it like a man’ and the audience howled, something snapped. He hurled Gia to the floor and wildly started throwing punches. He landed several before patrons and security reached him and pulled him off and restrained him.
With his wig knocked off and blood running down his face, Gia ran quickly to the deejay booth and locked the door behind him. This was definitely not the result he had expected. Mike had always been cool before.
Being led from the bar, Mike was still screaming, “How the hell does that faggot think I’d want to fuck with him. I’d never shove my dick up some guy’s asshole. I like pussy. Only pussy.” Security tried to calm him down once they got him outside, while they waited to see if Wayne wanted to press charges. He rarely did with fighters – usually just banned them from the business. But this time it was a performer – almost the equivalent of a regular paid employee. That made it a completely different scenario. They had their answer a few minutes later as a police car came.
“Is this the victim or the fighter?” one cop asked. “He’s got blood on him.”
“He started it. In the middle of a number he just hurled a performer to the ground and started punching him. It’s the performer’s blood.” It was one of the security force who spoke.
Wayne came outside. “Sorry for the inconvenience, officers. This just ruined a nice surprise birthday party.”
“You going to press charges?”
“I don’t know. I do know he is banned from here from now on. I think it’s up to Eugene.”
“Eugene?”
“The performer. He’s the one who got assaulted. Right now, he’s bleeding. There’s a nurse taking care of him in the men’s room. The nurse told me to call a paramedic. Thinks there may be something broken. Here they come now.” The blaring sound and the flashing lights of an ambulance could be seen a few blocks away.
“What do you want us to do with Mike? We can arrest him out here for public drunkenness but that arrest would reflect on your liquor license.”
“Where is that fucking faggot? I want to kill the fucking cocksucker!” Mike was again screaming at the top of his lungs. “I want to kill him! Let me loose, you dumb sons of bitches!”
“I think that solves our problem. We just heard him make threats of murder against another individual.” Cop #2 nodded in agreement with his partner.
“Want me to cuff him and read him his rights?”
“No. I want the pleasure. I’ve wanted to do this for years. At least the ladies will be safe from his aggression for tonight.” Mike was handcuffed and placed in the rear seat of the squad car. He actually kicked one window out.
The paramedics arrived and followed Wayne inside. They found Eugene in the men’s room. A nurse, one of the patrons, had stopped the bleeding, and the medic found nothing broken, but Eugene had admitted to her that he didn’t remember exactly what happened and was slow to answer questions. Stewart, the one paramedic, recognized Eugene but had never seen him in drag before. Both paramedics concurred that they should transport for observation, fearing a concussion.
Stewart turned to the nurse. “While we get the gurney ready, you think you could remove the make-up and help him into street clothes? No reason the hospital staff should see him dressed like this.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said his partner. “Dr. Jonas is on emergency tonight. He’s cool with things. And I can call my brother’s boyfriend – he’s a nurse. I think he might be in ER tonight as well. It’s where he usually is on weekends. They can take proper care of Eugene.”
Stewart looked at Eugene. “It’s going to be all right. You got anyone here?”
After a short pause, Eugene answered. “Yes, Larry and Dillon. They’re probably right outside the door.”
Stewart stepped outside, identified Larry and Dillon, and explained what they were going to do and why.
They agreed that Dillon could ride with them to the hospital and Larry would follow shortly and bring Dillon back to the house. They retrieved Eugene’s personal effects from the dressing room with Flame’s help.
“Want me to change and go with you guys or should I stay here and try to get some sort of party going again? Mike certainly destroyed that atmosphere.”
Larry told him to make an announcement that Gia was alright and only going to the hospital for observation.
“All right,” Flame said. “Here’s my number. Call me and let me know what’s going on. Dillon, sorry to meet you under these circumstances. Here are his keys. Don’t forget – call me. I won’t go to bed until I hear from one of you. If you don’t want to be al
one, let me know and I’ll come over. And not to worry – you’re not my type. I like blonds who weigh at least two hundred and are pure beefcake.”
“Thanks, but Larry and Bill have already made that offer, but I’ll be okay. I will call you when we know anything.”
When Larry, Bill, and Dillon finally left the hospital ninety minutes later after saying goodnight to Eugene, he was wearing a hospital gown and Gia was wearing make-up and being tended to by a very attentive nurse named Jacko. Dillon called Flame and reported that Eugene was being admitted merely for overnight observation. “He’ll call me when I should come and pick him up tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
Dillon was awakened at nine o’clock by the doorbell ringing incessantly. He quickly threw on some clothes and dashed to answer it.
“Bill! Larry!”
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Larry said. “Your black-eyed beauty wants to know when you are coming to pick him up.”
“Black-eyed? No, Eugene has green eyes.”
“Not today. He said he has two shiners.”
“When did you talk to him?”
“Right after he tried to call you. Said your phone is not in service.”
Dillon grabbed his phone and it didn’t work. “That son of a bitch,” he said, referring to his father. “He really went and did it. He shut the damn thing off on me. Son of a Bitch!!! Son of a fucking bitch!!”
“Here. Use my phone. Just hit redial.”
“Hi. It’s me. Sorry about my phone. Seems my dad went through on his threat to cut it off. What time do you want me there? As soon as possible? All right. Consider me on my way in five minutes. Okay, I’ll grab you some shorts, underwear and a t-shirt. Sneakers or loafers? Got it. The white ones. See you shortly.” He handed the phone back to Larry, “Thanks. Wants me there a.s.a.p.”
“We’ll get in touch later. Give him my love. Let’s go, Bull. You should be reloaded by now. I know I’m ready.”
Dillon saw a little blush appear in Bill’s cheeks. He obviously wasn’t used to his bedroom activity being voiced to others, but then wondered if he would get to be like Larry when Eugene got home. It was his turn to receive – to feel a cock sliding in and out. It would be nice, but Eugene’s physical condition and not physical action was more important right now. The bedroom could wait.
“Bull?”
“Yeah, that’s the nickname I’ve given him. Hung like one and fucks like one. Lots of power behind it. First time I didn’t have to tell a dude to do it harder. I love it.”
Bill’s cheeks reddened even more.
“Look, you guys get out of here. I’ve got a man to pick up.”
He barely recognized Eugene when he first saw him – two black eyes and a very swollen face. Once he was dressed and they were in the car, Eugene asked to stop at Wayne’s. “I think I have to talk to the man about what happened.”
They did and Wayne was there. He told Eugene that Mike was now banned from the place, and was currently in jail for being drunk and for threatening Eugene in front of the policemen. He explained that he could add the battery charge but felt it was better that Eugene press the criminal charges, as he was the actual victim. After a little hesitation, Eugene finally agreed. He had Dillon drive him to the police station where he filed the charges. At the advice of the one policeman who had investigated the altercation and who had an obvious distaste for Mike, the charge filed was not for simple battery but battery with the intent to do severe bodily harm. In addition, there was the damage to the police car window. As a result, Mike would not be released on his own cognizance now that he was sober, but rather held pending a magisterial hearing, where bail might be set. The officer also suggested Eugene see a lawyer about filing a protection from abuse order, just for his own future safety. Mick Bonavena was not exactly the kind of guy who played by the rules. That was one of the reasons he never made it in the pros. He was noted for going for a cheap shot if he thought he could get away with it. Even in his college career where he was coddled by the coaching staff, he had amassed innumerable penalties.
“Well, what do you want me to do with this?” Dillon asked, referring to the plastic bag which had Gia’s bloody cheerleading outfit hastily crammed in it, once he had helped Eugene up the porch steps and got him seated on the sofa.
“Toss it in the washer and let it soak in cold water. Hopefully the blood will come out.”
“Okay. Your other two outfits are laid out on the guest bed. I didn’t know what you did with them after you wore them.”
“Well, I doubt I’ll wear the dyke outfit again. The Dorothy outfit is washable. I can wash it later. Right now, I think we need to let the cheerleader outfit just soak. So tell me, what did you think of the show – other than the ending?”
Well, to be honest, I really didn’t understand the first number. Why were the girls fighting? And they looked so tough.”
“That’s the way some girls are.”
“Oh, okay. I know the audience loved it.”
“You know, it was fun. Acting so tough. Considering the ending of the night, you know I’m not a toughie and I’m definitely not a fighter. What about the second number?”
“Well, that sort of embarrassed me. Seeing you deep throat the banana and the cock. Made me realize everyone knows how good you are and were sort of envying me, since they must have known we’re doing it together in bed.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening for a while. My jaw is just too sore. It hurt just trying to eat the scrambled eggs they served me for breakfast.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you though.”
“Maybe later. Right now, I just want to get some sleep. The P.A. system in the hospital kept waking me up. ‘Doctor Johnson, please report to the O.R. Dr. Smathers, you are needed in Emergency. Code Blue in C.C.U.’ Never knew the hospital was so busy on a Friday/Saturday overnight shift.”
“Well, let me help you upstairs. Then I’ll take care of the cheerleader outfit and start making some soup. You should have no trouble eating that.”
“Okay.” They navigated the staircase and Dillon got Eugene stretched out on the bed. “Oh, this is never going to work. I have to sleep on my side. I always do.”
“Not true, mon frère. Thursday you conked out on the sofa flat on your back.”
“But you got me drunk on that tequila of yours. I passed out. I didn’t fall asleep.”
“You want I get some of that Mexican delight?”
“Oh god no! Maybe I’ll just take two of the pain pills the hospital gave me. If they don’t knock me out, you’ll have one happy camper to baby-sit.”
“No. Just one happy man to take care of.”
“I like that part. But later. You can take care of me and then plow me. I’d like that.”
Dillon closed the curtains to darken the room a little and headed downstairs to start soaking the blood and see what was around to make an easily swallowable soup. Following a futile search of the cupboards for ingredients, he headed to the store for a slice of ham and some split peas. Once rehydrated, he put them all in the food processor with the ham, some onions, celery, and carrots. That was the way his mom always made it – then simmer it all for hours. Then just before he served it, in would go some canned cream.
“My god, something smells divine,” Eugene announced several hours later as he gingerly made his way down the staircase. “What did you make?”
“My mother’s pea soup recipe. Be ready in five minutes. Just have to add some cream. Here, sit on the sofa.”
“No, I think I’ll just head to the table and enjoy the aroma close up and anticipate the taste.”
“You think you could wear something any skimpier?” Dillon asked, noticing the lavender jersey shorts Eugene had on that were loose enough to show his entire crotch pressed against the material. Dillon even noticed that Eugene was dressing left instead of the customary right side. It, rather than his fresh soup, had his mouth watering. He had to constrain himself from gettin
g erect and working for some of that man-cream. Instead, he stirred the cream into the soup and began plating. He gave Eugene his bowl and set his bowl down of the table. Eugene started eating it immediately, commenting on how good it tasted. He had never thought of adding cream when he made it. Then he watched as Dillon crunched up eight crackers in his bowl, making it so thick he had to chew it before swallowing.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Don’t know. Just the way I always eat pea soup. Ever since I was a little kid. I like it chunky.”
“If there are any leftovers, I’ll have to try it that way when I can use my mouth better.”
“Don’t worry. There’s enough for at least eight more bowlfuls.”
“Well, I bet it’s all gone by tomorrow night. This is really delicious.”
“Oh, by the way, you got lucky. All the blood came out. Not the slightest hint. I checked and then ran it through the washer with cold water. It’s still in there. I didn’t know if you hung it up to dry or threw it in the dryer.”
“That one is safe in the dryer.”
“So when we’re done eating, what does my invalid want to do the rest of the day?”
“Well, obviously going out for karaoke is out of the question. Let’s just cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie. Have you ever seen Priscilla, Queen of the Desert?”
“Never even heard of it.”
“It’s one of my favorites. It’s about a group of Australian drag queens. Grotesque make-up but fabulous costumes. I’ve stolen several ideas from it. I think you’d like it. You might get so horny watching it that you feel like fucking one. I won’t object if you do. Slip me a little of that Maine meat. The DVD is on the shelf next to the television. Just flip it into the player and then come cuddle with me.”
Eugene sat on the sofa and stretched out in such a way that Dillon could lie on it and rest his head on Eugene’s lap and he could gently caress his lover’s silky hair as they watched the movie. However, the initial scenes were barely over – the bus hadn’t even started on the cross-continental journey when Eugene’s jersey shorts were barely restraining his erection. Affection and closeness had an innate arousal. And Dillon was not one to ignore the stiffness. The shorts were down at the ankles and the meat was buried. It was an interminable blow job, for though he wanted the cock and the cream, the movie kept drawing his attention to the screen until “Take a letter, Maria” when Eugene could hold back no longer. Later, Eugene buried his head in the pillows upstairs as Dillon relieved his own pent up needs.