An erotic novella with transvesite, drag queen and m/m action by Alcamia Payne
Sanjay Sharma is engaged to be married to Nita Patel but his world is to be turned upside down when he discovers Nita’s kinky twin brother Amal, has a secret. Amal lives a double life as a dynamic gay drag act, called the Hot Chulala and Amal, complicit with his sister has been hiding his secret life.
One day Sanjay sees Amal standing at the bus stop and curious about him, he follows Amal to the Blue Lagoon Lounge, where Sanjay is blown away by the Hot Chulala’s erotic act. Now, he has to walk the tightrope of a burgeoning desire for gay Amal and his betrothal to Nita.
Sanjay owner of his family’s famous spice company, is trying to launch his website for his grandmother’s sexy sauce recipes and Amal is soon the inspiration for a new product line. Sanjay and Amal indulge in a number of kinky activities inspired by Grandma’s hot sauce, but beneath the fun and games, real love is growing.
Disaster is soon to strike when Amal’s father finds out the truth about the Hot Chulala and Sanjay’s engagement to Nita tumbles like a house of cards. Can Sanjay find the key to true love and save the day?
I’m the Hot Chulala and I’m the hottest thing on two legs. I’m five foot ten and everyone says I’ve got legs to die for and a waist like a dream. If you ask anyone about the Hot Chulala they say the same thing. “The Hot Chulala is hot, hot, hot. Catch his eye and if you’re lucky enough the Hot Chulala will pout those sexy lips and sing you a song or two, and if he thinks you’re super sexy he might come and sit on your lap and give you his dreamy secret blow job, or should I say butt job – because the Hot Chulala sure knows how to move that sexy little Indian butt and he can massage you into sweet heaven and back.” Yes, I dish out some sauce, ha ha, however, it’s not X-rated stuff. I’m just a drag artist with attitude.
It sure feels good to have finally arrived, but it also feels kind of queer, get the pun? I mean I put on the Hot Chulala clothes and I find I dig being a woman. I love women’s clothes and I get to dress up and fool around in them all the time. I positively love the rub of fancy lace and satin and the cool caress of a nice long gown, plus the accessories are to die for. Shit, I positively worship stockings and suspenders, and how could I forget to mention, my darling ten inch silver stiletto heels, which I bought on Camden market and which are divine. Those shoes were a bargain, I can tell you. Anyway, guys get off on my feminine ensemble. They want to fuck a diva dressed in panties and suspenders and slide their hands under my skirt when I walk close enough. It used to wind me up having to slap their hands away all the time because no woman likes to be felt up. But I get off on it now, and it makes me as horny as hell.
Talking about being felt up. I hate changing in the changing room at the Blue Lagoon. You see, I’m a bit sensitive and the changing room’s crap and doesn’t have a lock. Once, one of the other acts, Lucy Louise, who was on next, sneaked in and tried to accost me. Fun, fun, fun. Afterwards, I was covered in lurid pink lipstick and one of his cheap false eyelashes had somehow got stuck to my cheek – I kept it as a trophy – and he’s not the only one.
Every guy wants a piece of the Hot Chulala and I can sense their eyes all over me. They’re thinking, boy it’d be great to stick it in between those girlie cheeks … or I’d like that girlie up my arse. Everyone says I have the kind of chemistry which makes me an irresistible dame. Look, let’s face it; I was born to be the Hot Chulala.