Calendar Girl - An erotic novel (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) by Marsden Sommer

Author:Marsden, Sommer [Marsden, Sommer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Xcite Books
Published: 2012-06-29T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

I PUT THE BRAKES ON when we rounded the stage and Jack reached for the backstage door. ‘Wait, wait! I can’t. I can’t!’ I could feel tears pricking my eyes and my heart was damn near ready to burst out of my chest.

‘You can. You really can. You’ll be great. You just need to relax,’ Jack said softly. He talked to me the way one would talk to a spooked horse. Smart man.

‘I can’t,’ I whispered, tugging harder.

‘What was Mom drinking the other night?’ he asked me, completely shifting gears.

‘What?’

‘Mom. What was she drinking the night she climbed in my cage?’ Lisa looked up, shocked, opened her mouth to speak. ‘Later,’ Jack said. ‘Long story.’

‘Long Island Iced Tea. Why?’

Bubbles came passing through. Tonight she was a vision in shocking lemon yellow with disco ball earrings and jewel-encrusted stilettos. ‘Bubby! A LIT! And make it snappy. We have a nerve emergency.’

‘Be right back, baby,’ Bubbles yelled and hurried off.

‘A LIT?’ Lisa asked.

‘It’s a bar full of men in drag and horny men and curious men and women too. We need to abbreviate as much as possible. It’s like ... a hospital.’

‘Yes, Jack,’ I giggled. ‘That’s exactly what it’s like. A hospital.’ I snorted but then Bubbles was filling my eyes with shocking sunshine yellow and thrusting a tumbler at me.

‘Drink this. You’ll be fine, honey.’

I took a sip. ‘I don’t think this is going to work.’

‘You have to driiiiiink it,’ she said and tipped the cup so the sweet liquid flooded my mouth. It didn’t even taste alcoholic. Which is why they were so damn dangerous. He tipped about half the tumbler into my mouth, forcing me to spit or swallow. Age-old dilemma. I swallowed.

A warm kind of euphoria flooded me almost instantly. ‘You can do it,’ Jack said again, hustling me up the three steps. He took the offered tumbler of liquid courage and hauled me backstage.

Lisa followed behind, taking in every sight and sound of the backstage scene.

What happened next was a blur. I kept sipping my drink and watching the literal crew of men who rushed at us. It reminded me of a pit crew at a car race. I was stripped, redressed in a complementary paisley dress (my dress accented Jack’s) and white go-go boots. An immense green wig and the makeup ... well, I can’t even begin to describe it. When the crush of burly half-in drag men stepped back, a stranger stared back at me.

I turned to find Lisa and found my doppelganger, only her wig was hot pink. Dear God. We looked like candy-coated sixties sirens. ‘Wow,’ she said.

Anxiety curled in my belly but it was swiftly battled by the effects of my drink. ‘Wow is right,’ I said.

Jack came in, clapping his hands like a headmistress and studied us. ‘My, oh my, you are no drag queen but you are fetching. Good to go, then. We’re on in five.’

‘In five minutes I’ll be racing across the parking lot,’ I said and shifted from foot to foot like I had to pee.

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