Free Skin Deep by J.M. Stone Page B

to give her a high-five. “That’s what
I’m talking about, baby! Shee-it!”
    Allie just grinned, slapped fives with
Brandon, and shrugged. “I’m an equal opportunity kisser, I
guess.”
    See? Free spirit. Very free. But I love her
anyway.

Chapter 7
    The four of us, me, Allie, Luke, and Brandon,
all sat at Griff’s enjoying our food and drinks, and I guess time
just flew. When I glanced at my watch, I gasped and shouted to
Allie, “We gotta go! We’re gonna miss the show!”
    Allie wasted no time in downing her drink,
and then started trying to push Brandon out of the booth.
    I looked at Luke and opened my mouth to ask
him to excuse us so we could go, not in a million years imagining
that he would want to go with us but he cut me off.
    “Where you going?” he asked.
    “We’re going down to Shimbots on Broad to
watch the drag show. Why? Wanna come?” I asked.
    Luke looked over at Brandon who just shrugged
before he answered, “Sure. We’ll go.”
    Allie and I looked at each other, not needing
to say a word because we both knew what the other was thinking. Oh
boy.
    After having a minor squabble over who was
paying the bill (Allie and I lost), we all headed out and walked
the two blocks to Shimbots. The show was set to start at ten, but I
knew that it wouldn’t. Queens always run late. I knew this with
certainty because I, at one time, spent most of my nights hanging
out at Shimbots with my best boy friend, Jace, who, I swear, was
the straightest gay man you’d ever meet in your life. He had a
penchant for drag queens, so I became a ‘fag hag’ and ended up as
an assistant to Needa Mann. I spent my evenings soothing tempers,
dressing, pinning, poking, fluffing, and generally running around
like a crazy person, but it was fun. Seriously, though? You hafta
give them Queens props, cause those gowns they prance around in?
They weigh a ton!
    We walked in the door at ten after ten and
before we could even pull out our wallets to pay the cover, I heard
the unmistakable voice of Needa.
    “Aiiyeeeee! Emma, you sweet ass little thing,
get in here! Girl, you know you don’t have to pay no cover charge!
Just grab your groupies and come sit at my table. Okay, sugar bear?
Kiss kiss!”
    I nodded my head at her, grinned, and waved
at the boy manning the ticket counter as I passed, looking over my
shoulder to make sure that my little group was following. We walked
into the main room, which was a huge open space, dotted liberally
with tables and chairs and interspersed with sitting areas
consisting of sleek, modern leather couches, love seats, and end
tables. There was a black lacquered dance floor that actually rose
up to become the stage, and a large horseshoe shaped bar smack dab
in the middle.
    I grabbed a table close to where the stage
comes up, the one that Needa always had reserved for her guests and
me and Jace. I hadn’t seen Jace in about a year. He hooked up with
a little hottie and moved to Wyoming. Not sure why they went there,
but it had something to do with cowboys and hunting. Strange, I
know.
    I pulled out a chair and sat, noting that
Allie sat across from me, Luke beside me, and Brandon beside him,
sitting closer to Allie, though. As soon as we got settled, a
waiter came and took our drink order, and the lights dimmed,
getting ready for the show to start.
    In the darkness, I felt a hand skim down my
arm before coming to rest high on my thigh, making me gasp when it
squeezed gently. I didn’t move, and neither did Luke’s hand, even
when the lights came up. The stage had been raised and in the
center stood the Queen Emcee, Showmia Buffet, stuffed into an
outfit done up like the Chiquita Banana girl with fake fruit on her
head and more glued strategically to other interesting places.
Showmia Buffet (Glenn when not in drag) is middle aged, paunchy,
and prone to channeling Weird Al Yankovic. Tonight proved no
different.
    The speakers started blaring Weird Al’s
Michael Jackson parody, Eat It, and Showmia