It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from The Bachelor and the Cherry, Campo Royale #2.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
“Whose mother is coming?” I enquired. Clarice folded his arms over his bright yellow sweater as he gave Cord, the bartender, a cutting look.
“Do stop you’ll have the poor little dormouse terrified of her before he ever meets her,” he replied, tossing his head to fling a strand of the sixties style bob cut out of his face. I had a wig just like his in my bag. Two wigs actually. One was short and black the other a blonde beehive ala Dolly’s seventies look. Which was, in my humble opinion, her best looks. I rested my foot on my luggage, protecting it as best I could. All I had in the world was in this old leather-sided suitcase of my cousin’s. “Mother is Sitka, the owner of this establishment,” he explained as a huge bald man crammed into a black jacket with red lips on the left breast area ambled up to us. “Eladio, run down to Winnie’s and get us a hamburger and onion rings for our visitor.”
The man gave me a long look then held out his hand. Clarice dug into his sweater, right down the front, and rummaged around inside his brassiere. He yanked a ten dollar bill out then placed it into Eladio’s massive hand. Off he went without another word, his shoulders so wide I wasn’t sure he’d fit through the front doors. But he did.
“So Sitka will be able to hire me?” I asked. Clarice glanced at Cord. The bartender rolled his eyes then slipped away to wash glasses. I sipped on my soda and turned in the stool to face Clarice. He had one side of his red lips drawn in and was working it with bright white teeth. Did he bleach them? I wondered if all the queens had such nice teeth. Mine were a little crooked, well the one was. Once I got a job here I could afford to get my tooth fixed. “I have my own make-up and a wig. And a dress!”
“I’m sure you do and that they’re all top shelf but we have some basic hiring requirements here to that we must adhere to.” She glanced at me then the round neon clock on the wall then me then the clock.
“I’m really good,” I told her. Getting a job here would be a fine feather in my cap as my grandfather would have said. If I could work here for a few months then I could get to New York City without having to resort to sucking men off in train stations for food money. I’d done it once or twice on the way north. It wasn’t something that I wanted to repeat if I could avoid it. “I have a whole routine. And a wig!”
“You’re probably the next Bianca Del Rio I’m sure.”
“I love her.”
He gave me an arched brow. “Do you know who she is?”
I nodded rapidly. “Yes ma’am. I watched the first six seasons of Drag Race before my father caught me and cut off our cable TV service.”