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I got whistles and hoots of laughter from the other boys, who'd paused in their own preparations to pay attention to this latest mini-drama. Or maybe they'd all stopped to check out my basket. I stepped beside Bernie and stared at myself next to him. How could I properly cruise any of these boys when they couldn't see how my body really was? My best friend (who was to be called Royal Flush today) and I had arrived at George's before any of them, and my make-up had been well under way by the time anyone else had arrived. I was done up to look like Agnes Moorhead as Endora from BEWITCHED, with bright orange lipstick and blue and purple eyeshadow on thick. George had done wonders, but that was always the case with him. He had one of those senses of style that could create art--or camp--out of anything or anyone. I wore chunky plastic rings in various loud colors that matched or accentuated the dress, and plastic yellow bangles. A string of yellow pearls was wrapped twice around my neck like a choker. My wig was sitting on a mannequin head atop the television: Elizabeth Taylor big hair, the same color as my own so I didn't need to worry about the back of my own hair showing through at the bottom of the wig in a little dovetail. All I had left to do were my nails, in a garish orange glitter I'd found for a buck fifty that morning at the corner drug store. George's latest CD-ROM was playing on the computer behind me, and everyone was ragging him over the dialogue and the script and the performers he'd cast. Eric sat at the keyboard, controlling the action. "This one's balls look deformed, George, couldn't you have found someone who looks more normal?" "His cock is big and that's all that matters in these things." "That's right, it's only when you've got a little dick that you need to have a perfect body and face." I couldn't keep track of who was talking, but it didn't really matter, the overall effect was what was important. I knew George from before today, but had only just met all the rest of the boys, except of course for Royal Flush, who'd somehow talked me into going in drag, and also Jordan, who was the boyfriend of one of George's friends and had been the boyfriend of someone I'd known at college. There were a few boys I'd been able to pin names to, but I had quickly forgotten most of them as soon as I was introduced. Half the boys seemed to know each other from before, although I couldn't tell if they were friends or just remembered each other from George's apartment last Wigstock. I saw at least two boys exchange phone numbers, and there was certainly a fair amount of cruising going on still, especially as guys took off certain particles of clothes to struggle into dresses. I had had my eye set on a boy named Nathan since the moment he walked in. Right now, he was just sitting on the couch, watching it all happen around him, and there was something about the demure way he sat that really turned me on. That semi-overwhelmed look made him seem so wholesome, like a Midwestern tourist on his first visit to New York, and in some way it made him seem so young, even though I thought he was probably three or four years older than I was, maybe twenty eight, twenty nine. Which was a bit young for how I usually liked my men, when I wanted a relationship, but just fine for some hot and sweaty, guiltless sex. Nathan was wearing a very slutty clubbing shirt, very east village, an all white sequin crop top with a wide collar and a zipper down to his navel, but all very much a boy's cut. He wasn't planning on wearing a dress today, just a wig. Half the boys, it turned out, were just doing demi-drag, although they were having fun trying on various dresses while they were getting ready, and using it as an excuse to strut their stuff for each other. Nathan had found a little blond bob, like Marilyn Monroe in SOME LIKE IT HOT, which suited him quite well. I didn't know him, and I didn't know the couple he'd come here with, but as an excuse to start talking with him I took the bottle of orange nail polish that worked so fabulously with my equally-garish dress, sat down next to him on the couch and stared into his eyes while I asked him, fluttering my mascara-ed eyelashes and trying to sound forced-innocent as I held the bottle out to him, if he would do me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------
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