Sunday, November 28, 2010

Scifi sundays presents "Maiden Voyage"

Maiden Voyage


Nicco was nervous coming to New York City” rel=”geolocation”>New York for the first time. The club was packed,
Kings, queens, fags and hags, wall to wall gayness. Nicco was excited, this was
His maiden voyage to a Gay club in the heart of the big Apple. Dressed up, for
The very first time, Nicco headed for the ‘ladie’s room to make sure his makeup
Hadn’t run, and that he still looked the femme fatale. He strolled into the bathroom
And spotted Adrian. He was much older than Nicco, but he was breathtakingly

Not pretty. Not lovely. Gorgeous. Glamour, mystererious, the whole nine yards. Stately, stunning—all the sexy things a woman wantsed to be…and Adrian was a guy, which almost made Nicico hate “her” more. Nicco was taken by her stunning beauty, and knew that’s what he wanted to be too. Thrash was a gay bar—and there was something great about the place—tribal. Ecstatic. It was a converted church in the middle of the city—he felt reverence— he worshipped the fact that he was smack dab in the middle of wonderland—MEN everywhere—beautiful men—and it didn’t matter that they were there for each other. He was in on a pass—his friends were happy to dance with him, talk, whatever.

Thrash was safe. No rapists, no weirdos. Just Nicco and 500 he-shes. The she-hes had their own enclave there—but he didn’t dress right, didn’t give off the vibe—to them he was invisible—or maybe a fag hag—but in any event—they kept away. He didn’t see Adrian
again till the third rum and coke hit. So He left to drain the dragon.
Off to the ladies room, which wasn’t for women only—at the Gay clubs that was never a given.

And there she sat—–before the vanity mirror.
PERFECT. Raven hair, pouty red mouth just waiting to be kissed, dark eyes that whispered secrets of sin—and doing things in a red satin dress that would have gotten “her” arrested in Utah. Oh man…blow to his fragile 20 year old ego. How could a man be more beautiful than a woman? But he-she was.

There was the barest flicker of eye contact…a polite nod, and he was back out again. The party was just beginning…Cher’s…’gypsies tramps and thieves’…it was safe sex for him—dancing with those writhing men, reveling in their macho postures, presented with grace and pure rut. He loved men—and it did not matter that he was not looking for a lover. Here he could just enjoy the raw male power of the place. But there was Adrian…making him feel perfectly shoddy. Like an imposter. It had taken three looks to know her for what she was. No hiding the wrist structure—or the ankles…but all the rest…a perfect ten, drag queen extraordinaire.

And he knew she hadn’t gone for the surgery either. It takes a lot of balls to have your Johnson removed….This one was fully equipped—and still managed to pull off the female thing better than Nicco could with his flimsy first attempt. But what was she doing in the ladies room? There was a club full of guys who would have squired her as readily as they did him—a fact that remained a mystery, but a happy one. In the straight world, Nicco was always second choice—or even third. Here he was the belle of the ball…his choice of dance partners. Here his every word was a witty gem, and the circle of laughter followed him like a halo. he loved these men—for making him feel more gloriously like a woman then any “normal” man ever had.

But there was Adrian…on his second visit to the ladies room, he found she still sat, gazing in the vanity mirror, searching for some flaw—one small line marring the forehead—Nicco touched up his make up—which was running to ruin because he was dancing like he always had wanted to—and never had. Sweat was making it run off, and while he wasn’t hunting, looking good was a simple matter of pride , he didn’t just want to play the part, he wanted to feel the part.

Gary and Allan had warned him about bitch queens—and he had met a few…but Adrian seemed a perfectly harmless drag queen. The guys told him, Adrian was a house boy . Was he supposed to speak to her or not? If he did, was he crashing a fantasy? Hard to tell. He went back out to the boys—more dancing—more laughter as they spun the kid like a disco princess, and fought over who would partner him next…and strangely—He found his eyes going back again to that ladies room door. Surely she did not mean to stay there all night?

Miguel spun Nicco wild—-a mistake on such a crowded dance floor—and sent him careening into a man—he was dressed in a suit—unusual for that place. He smiled into Nicco’s eyes, nodded, and asked him to dance. Miguel and Allan danced together for a slow number—so there seemed no good reason not to…and all around him men danced slowly in each others arms…teasing each other—even kissing…a sight Nicco found profoundly erotic. he darted his eyes away, feeling like he intruded with his glance—but could not help but stare. It was sweet, sexy sensual, but with raw male power.

He did not know the gentleman’s name, and when he bent close, Nicco thought he meant to tell him—but instead his mouth came down hard on his mouth, and he could taste scotch on his tongue. He proceeded to bite Nicco’s lip, not quite unwelcome, it was still unexpected. He was still quite naive, and might have drawn back—but his hands shot down Nicco’s pants holding him, there….. as he kissed deeper—finally sucking in the lip and holding it between his teeth.

Nicco was completely unnerved. This was something that he never experienced, He did not want the boys to think he was poaching…and it was three minutes before the guy released his penis…grabbing Nicco’s nail polished hand instead.

“You are mine tonight.” he whispered, the accent faint—perhaps Russian…and Nicco’s throat went dry—not with excitement, but fear. His lip throbbed, and whatever this guy’s thing was, he was pretty certain he was not near experienced, nor exotic enough for his taste.

“Ladies room.” Nicco whispered …and he held his hand right to the door. He got inside, then leaned against it, feeling faintly sick. Trapped? In a gay bar? How the hell had that happened?

He looked up, and saw Adrian studying him in the glass. She spoke low—

“Hey kid—you’re being chased huh? He’s a beast that one, you won’t walk for a week.”

Nicco nodded, shaken.

“Well girl—there’s no back door here. You’re gonna have to leave sometime—we can’t talk panty hose and popping cherries until 4:30 a.m ….”she said calmly.

“No. Guess we can’t.” Nicco said, crestfallen. His posture was sagging, he felt he was a pretty poor excuse for a woman—no wiles, no gumption, just an 18 year old kid trying on a skirt, blouse makeup and some” title=”Pantyhose” rel=”wikipedia”>pantyhose.

“Tell you what little girl…” she said, not unkindly. “I’ll help you out. You’ll only have a minute…find your friends and run. The one who’s waiting for you—he’s a mean bastard. He likes it hard. He’s a top, and he knows you’re a bottom, he’ll take more than your
cherry, look! your lip is turning purple, so I know you already had a taste. And it doesn’t much look like you enjoyed it.”

She stood—breathtaking—tossed her hair over her shoulder, shook the mane of curls—and started moving for the door in a haze of Opium fumes.
Nicco needed to say something—anything less lame than thank you—-

“You are beautiful.” Nicco stammered, and looked down. Adrian froze—one elegant hand reaching for the door handle. Those dark eyes sized him up—looking for something nasty—sarcasm? But he wasn’t lying. She was…but somehow just didn’t know it. It took him years to realize how he almost ruined that beautiful makeup—but then he did not understand the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes. She fought them back, reached out, and hugged him…

“Be careful Little sister,” she whispered. “Look out for the sado masochists, they bite hard.”

A moment later, she walked out…and sure enough, the sensation she caused gave Nicco a chance to run. He found Gary, dragged Allan away, and we headed back toward Jersey.. They told had that Adrian had done something very special—she spent the whole night in that ladies room every time—emerging just before the closing to pick a lover for the night. Her early arrival had given me a chance to bolt—now she would be pestered by every man in the place until closing.

Miguel looked at him a moment, when Nicco told him what he said.

“Well, she hates you—but she loves you too. NO matter how good she looks, she knows she’s only a queen—small “Q”. She can fool the boys—but you’re a wannabe. You gave her validation. Tonight she was a Queen—large Q. Good job girl—or man—look at your lip!”

And so ended Nicco’s maiden voyage in to the belly of the beast. His fat lip, proof that he had the courage to go through with his fantasy. They Drove over the Pulaski bridge and stopped at the Skyway diner, they were starving, Nicco no longer cared about his make-up and had cleaned most of the makeup off and put on a dingy pair of blue jeans, and a t-shirt. They walked into the Diner and took a booth in the back, ordering who knows what, they were all pretty inebriated. Nicco got up to use the little boy’s room, back in the real world, he entered the stall, and was immediately grabbed and thrown to the floor…..Nicco couldn’t see, whoever it was, had pulled the t shirt over his head, he felt his pants being torn open….

“No one leaves me in the lurch, queenie…..”

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