A college student by day, drag queen by night, Devin Elliot loves his job. He likes to watch himself get ready, primping in the mirror, his masculinity slowly peeled away and replaced with feminine silk and lace.
But as he's getting ready for his stage show, a knock on the door interrupts him. Chuck works as a bouncer at the club where Devin performs, and he has it bad for the hot drag queen. Nothing turns him on more than watching his boyfriend become Devine.
With the clock counting down to showtime, can Devin and Chuck manage to snag some time alone before the show?
NOTE: This story appears in my print collection "Eight."
Rainbow Reviews: 4.5 out of 5
"Snyder does an exquisite job of characterizing these two men in a very short story. This is really not so much a story as it is an erotic vignette. It left me smiling and just a little breathless! .. Don't miss this one!"
Review by Elisa Rolle:
"A short tale, only a scene, but really interesting."
The doorknob rattles, locked. "Just a minute." Clicking off the curling rod as he stands, he strides to the door and flings it open, sure it's one of the other girls looking to bum his hairspray or eyeshadow. Those bitches ... "What is it now?"
Chuck stands in front of him, the bouncer's bulk filling the doorway. "Am I bothering you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and deep.
Devin takes a step back. "No, I ..." Reaching out, he taps his finger against Chuck's belt buckle. "Didn't realize it was you."
With quick reflexes, Chuck grabs Devin's wrist to keep him close. "Expecting someone else?" When Devin doesn't answer, Chuck tells him, "Invite me in."
"I'm getting ready," Devin protests, but it's half-hearted and he stands aside as Chuck shoulders into the room. With the door shut, the dressing room seems to shrink, contracting around them until the walls seem crowd around Chuck's large girth. Devin touches the bouncer's back, his hands flat against the warm leather vest Chuck wears, and he catches a glimpse of the both of them in the mirror -- Chuck fills most of the reflecting glass but behind him, Devin's skirt and a bit of leg flash out, his poufy hair, his bare arm. Pressing the padded bra against Chuck's back, Devin lets his hands smooth over the bouncer's shoulders, down arms whorled with tattoos and hair. "I thought I said after the show."
Chuck turns and falls into the loveseat. The cushions exhale beneath his weight with an exasperated sigh. "You've got some time now," he points out, catching Devin's hands in his own.
"I've got thirty minutes," Devin says, but he lets Chuck pull him closer. The bouncer's feet are between his, and the next step forces Devin onto the loveseat, where he kneels with one leg on either side of Chuck's denim-clad thighs. Making a show of looking at Chuck's watch, Devin announces, "Twenty minutes, my bad. Do you know how hard it is to look perfect in twenty minutes?"
"You look perfect now, princess."
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