Going Down For The Count by David Stukas

Author:David Stukas [Stukas, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, gay
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-07-04T04:00:00+00:00

10

I’d Kill to Get into this Party

When we got back to the palace, we found the count smoking a large cigar in the trophy room, which was replete with animal heads no doubt collected from hunts around the world. We decided since there wasn’t enough time before the ball, we would just sit around and listen to jazz, talk, and have cocktails.

We had a light meal, then went to our rooms to begin dressing for a night that would live in infamy.

A half hour later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and was confronted with the most horrific thing I have ever seen since catching a glimpse of Liza Minelli after a week-long lasagna binge.

Monette was standing at my door, drumming her fingers and sporting a just-wait-till-I-get-you-back-for-this look. She was dressed in a skintight outfit made from purple leather with yellow leather piping around the pockets. The waistcoat, which was cinched at the waist and flared out at the bottom, was complemented by matching tight pants that flared out into two-foot bellbottoms. The piece de résistance was modeled from one of those mushroom-puff hats that decorated such blaxploitation films such as Cleopatra Jones. Of course, Lynette had done her job fully and made a purple leather mask (with yellow flames shooting out from the eyes) in keeping with Ludwig’s request that each guest remain anonymous.

For two whole minutes, I snorted and stifled laughs, trying not to let Monette on to the fact I had set her up with Lynette’s help back in New York, but the jig was definitely up.

“Why, Monette!” I shrieked. “This must be the latest from the new designer—Osh—Kosh—B’Gosh!”

“I deserved this for getting you at your bon voyage party in New York,” she said, her face smiling and admitting defeat. Temporarily. “I promise you, I will get you back for this. Do you think I’ll stand out in this?”

“I think with your height and those five-inch multicolored matching wedgies, you couldn’t fail. I’d watch out for low doorways, though.”

“You know I’m going in this outfit, Robert,” Monette said defiantly. “I can dish it out, but I want you to know that I can bend over and take it like a gay man.”

“It’s good to see you being so mature about being defeated so resoundingly, Monette. Now, could you excuse me? Siegfreid and I have to get dressed in our fabulous outfits. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

I closed the door and cackled like Bette Davis probably did the day she opened up The New York Times and saw Joan Crawford’s obituary. The only difference between me and the late Miss Davis was that I didn’t have time to open a bottle of champagne.

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