Drag Me In

Two hours ago, I was over six feet tall in my gigantic heels and a gorgeous, extravagant wig that cost me over three hundred dollars. Now all my drag clothes are in my big bag right at my feet.

Performing in front of so many people has been my biggest dream, and I still feel like I’m buzzing out of my skin. Pride parades are supposed to feel exactly like this, like you could burst out of joy and happiness.

But now, all I want to do is relax, in my comfortable changing clothes, with my make-up already wiped off, and let the exciting day of performing and dancing at the afterparties fade out.

“Can I have a Whiskey, please?”

“Make it two, please.”

I turn my head and see a man standing right next to me that I haven’t noticed in this bar before. His confidence is visible, like a cloud surrounding him, and I have to admit, he’s a full-on delicious trade. He’s dressed in a dark, tight shirt that lets me get a perfect view of his sculpted chest, which looks even more prominent with his crossed arms that press his pecs together. On his wrist is a tiny tattoo of something like a teardrop, with a star inside of it.

“Did you also come from the Pride parade?”

“I did, yeah. How could you tell?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the glitter you’re basically covered in. It looks like you rolled around in a field of it, just like me. Or maybe because you’re staring at my muscles like a lost puppy.”

He’s not wrong. His hair is decorated with colourful glitter, just like my hands are. And, I mean, I did stare at him. Did he maybe watch my performance? Not everyone at Pride is throwing glitter around like I did from my float.

“You got me there.”

“Your whiskey.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Cheers.”

“So, what about you? Did you march, or did you just come for the afterparties?”

“What makes you think I just came for the afterparties?”

“You’re too put-together for someone who just spent hours in the sun. You don’t even have a slight sunburn.”

“That’s just the art of good sunscreen, honey.”

“Clearly. I look like a lobster compared to you.”

“You don’t. You look… Really good, actually.”

I can feel the warmth radiating from him as he leans closer to me. My body immediately responds to him in ways I can't hide. My heart is racing, and there's this electric hum under my skin.

The quietness of his voice is what catches me the most. It makes this feel like a secret meant only for me. It’s terrifying how much power this handsome stranger has over my pulse with such simple flirting.

“Oh! I…Thank you. ”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Hey, I’m not surprised! I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just didn’t expect a stranger might flirt with me by talking about a sunburn.”

“Who said I was flirting?”

“Nobody has to say anything. You’re not very subtle. I personally don’t just go up to strangers and tell them they look good without an intention in my mind.”

“Okay. Fine. Maybe I am.”

“Just maybe?”

“Don’t push your luck, honey.”

“By the way, you look great, too.”

“I figured out you may be thinking that by the way you’ve been looking me up and down this whole time.”

The heat in my body creeps from my neck right into my cheeks. This man is reading me like an open book.

“So, I’m not very subtle myself…”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say so. I’m going to be honest with you, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

“The look you’re giving me makes me think things that may not be very appropriate.”

“Like what?”

“Like that, I should suggest that we get out of this bar and go to my place.”

“I mean… The streets are still pretty full; it might be hard to get through the crowd… But this place has a bathroom…”

My body shivers as his fingers gently grasp my wrist. His fingers are so incredibly soft.

“But we only do this if you’re comfortable, yeah? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“The longer I look at you, the more sure I am… Don’t make me wait, though.”

“Atta boy…”

“Get inside…”

“Now it’s my turn to taste you, pretty boy.”

“Please…”

“Look at you… Being all sweet and polite even while you’re this fucking hard for me. You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Oh shit… Your mouth feels so good…”

“Y-yeah… P-please, don’t stop…”

“You’re doing great, baby. Such a good boy.”

“P-please, I’m so close already, I… I can’t…”

“Can’t what? Use your words.”

“Can’t… Hold on any longer…”

“Then cum for me, glitter boy. I want to taste you, too.”

“Oh, please, I’m gonna…”

“Fuck…”

“This was exactly what I needed after today.”

The drag brunch is in full swing today - mimosas are flowing, the crowd is cheering and the energy in the room is absolutely electric.

My performance is already over. I was the one to kick things off today, and the crowd absolutely devoured it. Every lip-sync, every hair whip, every death drop was pure perfection. I left not a single crumb on that stage.

“Oh, don’t look at me so clueless. You know exactly why I’m here!”

“Honestly? I don’t. But I love the entrance, keep that attitude up.”

“You think this is a joke? Let me spell it out for you, honey. Every single idea I have, everything I do, you suddenly do the same. Glittery dresses? You’re in glitter the next day. I book a solo show? You suddenly do it too! Oh darling, and don’t even get me started on how you copied my Lady Gaga number-”

“It’s literally Lady Gaga. People perform her all the time. How should I know what you’re performing beforehand?”

I’m so close to snatching her fucking wig off right then and there. My fingers are literally twitching. But as she casually strokes a little strand of it behind her ear, something catches my eye.

A tattoo, on the inside of her wrist, in the form of a drop with a star inside of it.

My heart stops at the sight. It feels like the room is tilting, and I start feeling slightly dizzy. There is absolutely no way this is real.

This is him. The guy from the bar I hooked up with. The one I’ve been texting back and forth with for over a week now.

“That tattoo on your wrist, I- I’ve seen that one before.”

“What a coincidence. Lots of people have tattoos, sweetheart.”

“I literally saw it when we were hooking up!”

“You got me there. I already suspected that it was you as we started writing.”

“You can’t be serious! If you were already thinking that I am the Drag Queen you’re basically competing with, then why the hell didn’t you say anything?!”

“I kinda wanted you to find out for yourself. And I also kinda waited for this moment.”

“Waiting for WHAT?! Is this funny to you?!

“For our tension to finally find an end. The little rivalry we’ve had going on, the shady glares across the room? It has to break sometime.”

“You’re absolutely unbelievable! You think the tension will stop only because I found out it’s you that’s my copycat? That only makes it worse!”

“So, why don’t you do something about it?”

I’m so furious I could scream, yet I can’t stop staring at his lips that have kissed me so good like nobody did before. He’s towering over me with that stupid, knowing smile that makes me want to tell him how angry I am, how he should never talk to me again - but I just can’t.

I lead us into one of the smaller, separate changing rooms. When I do performances at this place, I like to change in here instead of with the other girls. It feels more protected, and since this place is solely for drag brunches and drag shows, there is lots of beautiful clothing in here.

The mirrors are decorated with feather boas, the desks are full of glue, make-up and accessories queens left here.

“Mhm, finally. Couldn’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

“You’re such an asshole… I shouldn’t want this.”

“Yet here you are, bent over for me like a good little slut. Look at you.”

I gasp as he pulls gently at my wig and makes me look at myself in the mirror. Seeing him towering over me from behind while he holds onto my hips like a lifeline makes my cock stiffen almost painfully.

“All that teasing and shade you throw at me every time we see each other, but the second we’re alone, you’re presenting that perfect ass for me.”

“Hurry up a bit, we have to be at the ending performance, and…”

“O-Oh, fuck…”

“Won’t you look at that? Is that how I can get you to shut up?”

“F-fuck you.”

“Acting so bossy, but pressing against my fingers like the dirty whore you are. Quite comedic, isn’t it?”

“Stop talking so much and fuck me already.”

“Impatient, pretty thing.”

“Please, keep going.”

“Ah-! Fuck, you’re so deep…”

“Take every inch, baby. You’re such a good boy. You feel so good.”

“Y-you feel so good, too. Oh, please…”

“I know what you need, what you’re begging for so sweetly, but I want to hear you say it.”

“Please, touch me, I- I- Please…”

“Y-y-yes!”

“I’m- I’m so close-”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful… Cum on my cock…”

“W-what a good boy you are, just.. Just like that…”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the worst.”

“And you’re the best fuck I ever had.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“You know… I was thinking about our similarities.”

“The ones you told me I was copying from you?”

“I… I mean, yeah, kinda. I was thinking… We could use them. Build a show out of them together… If you want to, of course.”

“You only ask me because you want me to fuck you in the backstage again.”

“How could you say that? I mean, yeah, that plays a big part too, but I’m serious.”

“I think I would like that.”