Page 59 of Pieces of Me

Scott wandered over and slid his arm around Teena’s waist, nuzzling her neck. “My Asian goddess.” He strung a line of kisses up to her ear and she gave a delicious shiver. “Fix me up for my VIP gig, would you, darling?”

“Nah,” she said, pushing him away. “I’m due on stage right now, love. Someone else has to get you all sexified tonight.”

Ignoring Scott’s pout, she leaned close to one of the makeup lights and peered into a mirror before refreshing her lip gloss and sweeping out the door, Tawny and Sarita close behind her. Dee and Blyss moved to the costume rack and started an amicable bickering over the remaining available clothing.

“Why you get all the tutus?” Dee complained, trying to snatch a piece of tulle away from Blyss, who wouldn’t relinquish it.

Blyss shot her a withering look. “I get all the fuckin’ tutus ’cause my costume has to be big to make me look small. You skinny bitches don’t get that. Back off.”

Rylan lifted his camera to his eye and took a few shots, getting close-ups of their faces as they argued heatedly over the tutus and then thirty seconds later were lacing each other up in matching corsets, critiquing a wig’s straightness, or helping to find a lost pump. Finally they swished out to join the show, Dee still sans tutu, peace having been restored.

Rylan looked around for Scott to share in his amusement with the whole thing and almost choked when he spied him standing next to a bay of lockers, rummaging in a duffle bag, stark naked. As Rylan gaped, he pulled on a pair of designer bikini briefs in bright red, one side of the material stretching normally across a lean hip, the other side comprised of a set of straps that left acres of skin and a slice of side pubic hair showing. The pouch in front was generously filled, the fabric lovingly clinging to every bump and ridge.

Rylan swallowed hard, his heart starting to pound as the memory of how Scott smelled, how he tasted, came to him as clearly as if it was yesterday, not six years ago. For a moment he was that yearning, virginal teenager again, enthralled with his first sexual experience and caught up in his first real crush.

He pretended to fuss with his camera while the sound of clothing rustled behind him, and when he dared glance over again, Scott was fully dressed―thank God―in another skintight tank and pair of jeans. He moved to the makeup table and sat down, picking up a tube of eyeliner.

“I can’t put this shit on right to save my life,” he groused, licking a finger and scrubbing at the corner of his eye where the previous application had smudged. “I’ll have to take it all off so I don’t look like some deranged raccoon.”

Scott picked up some facial wipes and pulled one out, and Rylan impulsively stopped him. “I can reapply it for you,” he offered and quirked his lips when Scott gave him an incredulous stare.

“You can do makeup?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Really,” Rylan said, moving to him. “In college I spent quite a bit of time in South Beach, partying at the clubs and with the queens there. I learned a few things.”

“Well.” Scott sprawled in his chair and let his gaze wander lazily over Rylan from his head to his feet. “I bet you did.” He tossed the tube of black eyeliner to Rylan and looked at him expectantly.

Rylan sauntered closer and straddled Scott’s lap, still standing, and uncapped the tube. He tilted Scott’s chin up with gentle fingers. “Look down for me,” Rylan murmured, angling one of the makeup tree “branches” so the light fell where he wanted it. Scott complied, and Rylan leaned in closer, putting his thumb on Scott’s brow bone to hold him still while he drew a careful line from the middle of his eyelid to the outer edge.

He repeated it on the other side and had Scott look up and to the side while Rylan lined the inner corners and lower lid on both eyes. When he was done, he put the makeup down and held a mirror up for Scott to look into.

“Damn, you’re good,” he marveled, turning his head to either side to check it out. “Straight, perfect lines, totally even.” He flashed a devastating smile that made Rylan feel a little weak in the knees. “Don’t let the girls know, or you’ll be conscripted into doing their makeup every night.”

Rylan gave a soft laugh, still standing over Scott’s lap and making no effort to move away. “I got so good at it in Miami, some of the girls there thought I was really a professional makeup artist. Damn it, I should have charged for my services,” he joked. “I’d be rich now!”

He shivered when Scott put his hands lightly on Rylan’s hips, looking up at him from his seated position. “Still the same old Ry,” he said quietly, “always helping everyone else out. You haven’t changed a bit.”

The artificial light and the black kohl made Scott’s eyes stand out like the brightest emeralds, and Rylan couldn’t help but reach out to brush his hair off his forehead with gentle fingers. “It’s good to see you happy.” Scott didn’t look away, and he opened his mouth to say something.

Before he could, the door burst open and Teena exploded into the room, followed by Tawny and Sarita.

“Freedom!” Teena yelled. “Last show of the night, baby, all finished.” She caught sight of Scott and Rylan. “Whoops! Sorry to interrupt.”

Rylan stepped back, allowing Scott to sit up straight. “Not interrupting,” he said with a smile. “Just helping him fix his eyeliner.”

“Well, thank gawd,” she drawled, strolling over and whacking Scott on the arm, making him yelp.

“Hey! What’s that for?” He rubbed his arm with a baleful glare. Teena propped her hands on her hips and glared right back.

“We like Rylan,” she informed him, “and we’ll be pissed if you run him off in the first week. Be warned!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She whacked him again. “You know goddamn well what that means, darling. Hands off him. You don’t fuck him, you won’t break his heart.”

“And maybe he’ll stay for more than five minutes,” Tawny chimed in, turning her back for Teena to unzip her dress for her. Teena did so and pulled her own electric-blue wig off to stick it on a nearby mannequin head, removing the nylon beanie thing that was holding her natural hair down and tossing it to the table.

Scott clasped his hands over his heart, the look on his face wounded. “Ladies, your faith in me is touching.”