The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2) - Page 15

He handed Vince his drink and walked over to the vanity, reaching into my makeup case, pulling out a cotton swab and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He dipped the swab into the alcohol and brought it to my forehead, rubbing the tip along my hairline, drying up any residual oil left from the scrub I’d don

e earlier.

He threw the swab away, then handed me the wig cap. I stretched it out, sliding it over my head, tucking the little curls of my hair underneath, making sure there were no lines. He reached to the back of my head to pull it down tight.

From there, he took a roll of double-sided adhesive tape and applied it to the front and sides of the wig cap. He was good and quick. I could do this on my own, and often had when Paul wasn’t there, but sometimes I needed him to do it for me so I could focus on my breathing. I was Helena, but sometimes, it felt like she was getting harder to control. I didn’t like how easily I could slip in and out of her and it was taking me longer and longer to be able to find my center where she didn’t overwhelm everything.

Kori and Vince murmured in the background as Charlie fiddled with his new camcorder, some HD monstrosity the size of his hand but with more buttons than my phone. He had assured me in a light voice that the definition was so good, I’d be able to see my pores when reviewing the video later. I’d told him it was a testament to how much I loved him that he still drew breath after such a comment. He’d laughed and kissed my cheek sweetly.

When Vaguyna died, she’d left me her entire wardrobe, her wig collection, and years of knowledge that I’d never be able to repay her for, no matter how long I lived.

But the one possession she’d left me most dear to my heart was Charlie. Charlie and Vaguyna had been a team for going on twenty-five years. Charlie had come out late in life, in his forties, a failed marriage behind him and an ex-wife and children who wanted nothing to do with him. Vaguyna had taken him in much like she’d done with me, sheltering him from the world, helping ease his burdens and soothing away the heartache. I’d never been courageous enough to ask if they’d been anything more than friends, but I didn’t suppose it mattered. Because they were family.

And before she left this world, she had made me promise that I would take care of him for the rest of his days.

“He’s one of the most precious things in this universe,” she’d whispered, her body gaunt and ravaged by cancer, the respirator hissing through the trach tube in her throat. “You care for him and make sure he’s happy with the time he has left. I ask this of you, kitten, more than anything else in the world.”

And of course I’d promised her. Because I loved him as much as I loved Vaguyna Muffman.

The camera he now fiddled with was a gift for his seventy-ninth birthday last month. The look on his face when he’d opened it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. He’d swallowed thickly and coughed, wiping his eyes and gruffly saying his allergies were acting up. No one had said a word otherwise.

“Done,” Paul said, and I looked away from Charlie.

“Oh, Paul,” I said. “It’s lovely. Thank you, baby doll.”

He squeezed my shoulder and handed me a bottle of talcum powder before going to get the costume ready. I sprinkled some of the powder on a large brush and lightly spread it along my exposed shoulders and arms. It made getting in and out of the costume easier.

I stood from the vanity. Vince turned away, giving me privacy, though he didn’t need to. Helena didn’t care if he saw. He’d been invited up to her lair, so she was comfortable with him. I dropped the untied robe, only wearing flesh-colored Spanx underneath. It was a cheap and easy way to keep things in place.

“You can look if you want to,” I teased. “After all, I’ve seen what you got in my dreams.”

“You’re a lady,” Vince said, still facing away. “It’s only right.”

“Aren’t you just precious,” I purred.

“Oh dear god,” Paul gagged. “Please, not in front of me. If you’re going to have an emotional affair, at least wait until I’m out of the room, for fuck’s sake. It’s like watching a cat in heat. Please don’t get on your knees and present yourself.”

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “It wouldn’t be emotional in the slightest. Just physical. Sweaty, messy, and physical. And I’m not quite ready to show him my asshole yet. I have a performance tonight, after all. Maybe after.”

“Sandy,” Vince said to the wall. “I really love you. You’re like the big sister I never had. And Helena is like having a crazy aunt. I don’t want to see my crazy aunt’s asshole. Or my sister’s. Besides, Paul is the only man I need.”

“Yeah, I am,” Paul said with a leer. “And also, you’re the only person I know that can say something sweet while in the same breath talking about seeing your aunt’s asshole. I’m impressed. And weirdly turned on.”

“It’s my superpower.” Vince shrugged. “I say weird things and you get turned on. It happens all the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“One time, in college, I did a keg stand and my nipple piercing got caught in a corncob that a friend of mine was eating. We were drunk and couldn’t figure out how to get it off, so I kept it on until the next day when it fell off on its own while I was eating at McDonald’s. For, like, a week after, my buddies called me Corn Nips. I can’t eat corn to this day.”

“Okay, so it’s totally true. What the hell.”

Kori came over with a thin, strapless bra that was padded in the cups. I lifted my arms as she wrapped it around my chest, clasping it at my back. I adjusted the bra until it was snug and centered. “Thank you, kitten,” I said as she came around me again. “You’re a peach and I would eat you so.”

The catsuit came next. I stepped into it, the thin lining on the inside rasping against my skin. It kept the vinyl from sticking to my skin as the suit barely allowed any room to breathe, especially later on as the club grew hot with bodies writhing together. I wiggled it past my hips, putting my arms through the sleeves. Paul zipped me up as I told Vince he could turn back around.

“Well?” I asked him, eyebrow arched. “How do I look?”

“Fierce as all hell.” He eyed me appreciatively.

Tags: T.J. Klune At First Sight Romance
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