Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel (8 page)

I fixed my eyes firmly on Fred as I lifted the
microphone and began to sing, giving her a little smirk. The audience was in
fine form, rowdy as you please. I turned and focused on the other side of the
club for a moment. All the while I knew Fred was watching me. I loved thinking
about how her eyes were probably drinking me in. When we’d locked gazes only
seconds ago, she seemed entirely intrigued, and that was the exact reaction I’d
been hoping for.

Intrigue leads to curiosity, which leads to
exploration, which leads to providing me with the opportunity for getting her
out of the pretty purple dress she was wearing. Nora sat beside her, her arms
folded and her mouth drawn into a thin line. Well, if Fred was intrigued, Nora
was the opposite of intrigued. In fact, I could tell she had immediately
written me off.

Too bad.

I had no time for close-mindedness.

Further into the song, I made my way back to Fred,
coming to a stop directly in front of her. She was smiling, which was a good
sign. I crouched down low, my thighs open, as I sang the final part of the
song. Her smile fell, her mouth dropping open as her eyes went straight to my
crotch, and I purred inwardly. Call me an exhibitionist, but I liked it that
she was looking there.

I made sure to give her a smouldering look when I
sang about showing her my favourite obsession.

The rest of the performance went swimmingly. In
fact, I hadn’t enjoyed singing for an audience quite this much in quite some
time. Having Fred there made it exciting. I loved the element of surprise, not
knowing what she could be thinking, but I could tell from her face that she was
extremely pleased with the revelation of my profession.

I just knew from the moment we’d met that she was
the kind of girl I could be friends with. It was too bad I wanted to put my
penis inside her, because where I was concerned, sex often led to the
destruction of friendships. A lot of the time I wanted to keep the women I
slept with as friends; the problem was that they wanted more. Unfortunately, it
didn’t sit right with me to foist all my issues on one woman. Nobody deserved
to be stuck with a head case like me.

They thought they wanted me for keeps, but that was
only because they saw the fun, flirty, happy-go-lucky Nicholas. They would be
running a mile if they could see me on my bad days, sitting in my own filth and
drinking my weight in hard liquor.

After my performance, I went to my dressing room,
wiped off most of my makeup, threw on some jeans, and went in search of Fred. I
was so eager to see her that I forgot to put on a top, and was instead still in
the waistcoat I’d been wearing onstage. Oh, what a pity that was. Poor Fred would
have to contend with the sight of my bare chest. (And yes, I was grinning
deviously.) When I spotted her, she was sitting at the bar by herself, sipping
on a cocktail.

 “Well, what did you think?” I asked, sliding onto
the stool next to hers and leaning closer. I allowed my bare arm to brush
against hers for a second, and I saw her eyes trail to the small contact.

“It was brilliant!” she replied with gusto, and some
of the tension inside me instantly evaporated. It was a relief to know that
she’d enjoyed the show.

“I was a little gobsmacked when you first walked out
in that getup, but I was kind of expecting it, given the venue,” she continued,
and took another sip of her drink, her golden eyes alight. This was good. She
was just as excited as I was.

“I knew you'd like it — I just had a feeling,” I
said, and then remembered Nora. I’d seen her when I was looking for Fred, and
she was pale as a ghost. “Although when I waved hello to Nora a minute ago, she
seemed less than impressed.”

Fred brushed away my concerns. “She's just put out
because she had you down as her new potential love interest. Little did she
know you'd turn out to be gay.”

Okay
. So perhaps my
excitement was a little premature. I didn’t even consider the fact Fred would
think I was into blokes. It was silly of me, because clearly that’s the most
obvious conclusion she would make. I was about to enlighten her, but first I
needed another drink. Do not frown at me. I wasn’t falling back into my old
ways. I just needed a little Dutch courage. The barman poured me a whiskey
while I replied to her, “You think I'm gay? Even after what I said to you last
night?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe you were pulling my leg
or something. Besides, apart from Eddie Izzard, I don't think I've ever heard
of a straight drag queen.”

 I smiled at her then, because it suddenly occurred
to me that she was hedging for information. She didn’t want me to be gay, that
was pretty evident. “Yeah, well, you're looking at one.”

“You're joking, right? You have to be at least bi.”

All of a sudden, her response pissed me off. I’d
spent my entire life dealing with people’s assumptions and judgements, and I
really didn’t want to have to deal with them from Fred.

“Nope. I only have eyes for the ladies.”

She frowned and swallowed. “Sorry, sometimes I don't
think before I open my mouth. That was rude of me.”

Immediately, I’d forgiven her. After all, I was
prone to speaking before thinking myself. I guessed it was further evidence of
just how kindred we were.

“It's okay, no offence taken. I'd offer to buy you a
drink, but you seem all set. What is that, anyway?” I leaned closer to her and
allowed our arms to touch again. “Ah, minty. Mind if I have a taste?”

 “Not at all. You've never had a mojito before?”

 I was playing dirty, no one could deny it, but I
desperately wanted to turn the conversation sexual. She looked amazing tonight,
her hair wild and a slight sheen of sweat on her décolletage. I found it
terribly appealing, and it made my mind wander.

If you haven’t noticed by now, my mind was prone to
wandering.

“I have, but I wanted to have a taste of yours. Put
my lips where your lips have been.”

“You're such a pest,” she giggled, and stole the
drink back from me. I smiled widely because I’d already managed to have a
taste.

“That's quite a fetching outfit, Fred. Can I take a
loan of it next week?”

She gave me a comical grimace. “After the way I've
been sweating in it tonight, you don't want it, trust me. This club is stifling
hot.”

I decided to bait her. “Not necessarily. The sweat
is an added bonus. I can sniff on it while I have some private man time.”

The way she took it on the cheek was further
evidence of how alike we were. “Ugh, even I think that's disgusting, Viv, and I
work in a charity shop. Dealing with ‘soiled’ clothing is part of my job.”

I was enjoying this back and forth between us. And I
thought she might actually be flirting with me. I loved the way she flirted.
She didn’t act all coy and girlish. Instead, she goaded me, gave me shit, and
said whatever weird thing was inside her head.

“I hope you wash your hands regularly. Just how
soiled are we talking? I have to admit, I'm morbidly curious.”

“Don't worry. The dirty clothes get laundered before
they're put on display. But if you're looking for details, I've seen everything
from questionable white stains to yellow ones and all that comes in between.”

I grinned wide now, knocking back a gulp, and
replied brazenly, “What comes in between white stains and yellow? In my
experience they both come out of the same...pipe. I'm not aware of any in
between in that area.”

 “I'm not sure, possibly pre-cum.”

In that instant I burst out laughing, clutching my
stomach. I found her so hilarious that I was actually considering abandoning my
quest to bed her in order to simply be her friend, because this girl was
utterly priceless. Totally lewd and absolutely brilliant in my eyes. I’d never
met anyone quite like her.

“Fuck, that was a good one, Fred.”

 Her reply was deadpan. “I'm available for special
occasions and corporate events.”

“I'll spread the word.”

A second later, her friends showed up: Nora, a
blonde girl, and a chubby guy.

Fred pulled a stiff Nora into a hug and then began
introducing me to her other pals, Harry and Anny. Before I knew it, we were on
our way to a nightclub. I’d gone to the dressing room to grab a proper shirt
and bumped into Sean, the drummer from the house band. I’d asked him if he
wanted to come, and he was all for it. Then I was in the back of a taxi with
Fred, her soft body right next to mine. There was something about the confined
space and breathing in the smell of her shampoo that made me want to pull her
onto my lap so she could straddle me with her sexy thighs.

I was all for back-seat taxi shenanigans.

Once we arrived at the club, I was instantly
bombarded by loud, garish music and hordes of people gyrating on the dance
floor. Normally I preferred a less populated setting. I’d been there, done
that, purchased the T-shirt when it came to the club scene, but since Fred was
with me, I didn’t mind. A Lady Gaga song came on, and I dragged her onto the
dance floor. She was reluctant, but I insisted. I tried to pull her body close
to mine, but she manoeuvred away, and I smiled at her fondly when she began to
do the robot.

She was nervous, and I thought it was adorable.

I wasn’t going to let her get away with platonic
dancing, though, as I spun her around, put my hands on her hips, and brought
her body flush with mine. With my front pressed into her back, I was hoping she
could feel how she affected me. She remained stiff even as I tried to coax her
body to move to the beat. I’ll admit I felt like doing a Patrick Swayze and
starting in with some
real
dirty dancing. I could dry-fuck on a dance
floor like you wouldn’t believe, and I had moves that would make even a
stripper blush. However, Fred was already mortified by our proximity, and I
didn’t want to scare her away.

“Relax,” I told her, my breath hitting the back of
her neck. “Follow my lead.”

Her body became a fraction less rigid, and I preened
inwardly. She was trying. She wanted this. I allowed my hand to wander up to
her neck and sink into her lustrous curls. They called to me with their siren’s
song, begging to be touched. I wasn’t sure what the sexiest thing about her
was, but I was beginning to think her hair was taking the lead. It was so soft
and silky, I wanted to sink my face into it and breathe it in. Totally creepy,
yes, but there you had it.

 “You still dreaming about that wig, Viv?” she
asked, turning her face to me.

It brought her mouth closer to mine, and I was
seriously considering kissing her. Instead, I ran my hand back down her body to
her waist and gave her a squeeze before replying boldly, “No, I'm dreaming
about all of this golden-brown honey draped over my pillow.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes glazed over. I
could tell she was imagining the kinds of things we could do that involved
pillows…and beds. It delighted me. I loved it that she was visualising us
together. The mind was a powerful aphrodisiac.

I chuckled softly. “What, nothing to say to that,
Fred?”

“You got me. I'm completely speechless,” she
replied.

I leaned in closer and allowed my lips to brush her
earlobe.

“I'd like to see you speechless, breathless,
panting....”

She froze and instantly pulled away. Oh, no, I’d
been too forward again, and she had the look in her eye of a woman who was
about to scarper.

She mouthed the word “bathroom,” and then she was
gone.

Shit. I’d fucked that up good and proper.

Later that night, after Sean the drummer had gotten
off with Fred’s friend Harry and Nora had been a complete bitch to Fred, we
were on our way back to our apartments. Fred had splashed some water on Nora in
the ladies’ room, which was apparently why Nora was being mean, but I had
another theory.

I suspected Nora was jealous that Fred was getting
all of my attention. And yeah, she was probably also a touch annoyed at finding
out what I did for a living. When people met me in everyday life, I may have
come across as a tad eccentric and flamboyant, but they rarely guessed that I
spent my nights dressed as a woman.

It often left them with a bad taste in their mouths,
and Nora certainly had a bad taste in hers. She strutted straight to her
apartment and disappeared inside, leaving me alone with Fred. My curly-haired
beauty stood hesitantly outside my door and watched as I pulled out my keys.
Her eyes shone with a hint of drunken excitement, but she wasn’t completely
wasted. She was ignoring what had happened between us on the dance floor, not
bringing it up, but I didn’t mind. When I asked if she wanted to come inside
and see my place, she answered eagerly in the affirmative.

I let her go in ahead of me and watched as she
dropped down onto my lime green chaise longue and picked up my fancy red
feathery pillow. I tended to decorate my living quarters in what many would
deem a slightly garish manner. I enjoyed the Pop Art style and often favoured
eye-catching colours. I don’t think I owned a single item that was beige. I
also liked to collect interesting pieces of vintage furniture. A lot of this
stuff had been in storage for years, but now that I was trying to settle down,
I was finally able to fully enjoy it.