"The Outsiders" 23
On with the show! The drag show, that is...
By Gaedhal
Atlanta, Georgia, July 1979
Brian and Justin stared at the Illusions stage -- and at Rowley, their waiter from that afternoon, dressed in full evening gown drag, tiara included.
"Wow!" Justin marvelled. "He looks exactly like a real woman!"
"Not a woman," Bubba corrected. "A lady. That's a distinction we make clearly down here in Georgia."
"I hope all of you gentlemen -- and whatever else we have here on this fine July evening -- will enjoy our little entertainment," Miss Chantilly proclaimed from the stage. "In honor of the hottest summer in a long time here in HOT-lanta, we call our show 'Georgia Peaches of 1979'! So, without further ado -- on with the show!"
Miss Chantilly stepped back and began singing 'A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody' in a low, sexy contralto. The green velvet curtains opened wide to reveal a glittering golden set with a staircase in the center. Walking down those stairs, like showgirls in the 'Ziegfeld Follies,' was the most mind-boggling array of drag queens that Justin had ever seen. Some were in full drag as their favorite divas -- Judy, Barbra, Bette, and Diana were all accounted for, as well a couple others Justin couldn't identify. One petite queen was dressed as Scarlett O'Hara, her green sprigged muslin dress, picture hat, and parasol perfect in every detail, her waist cinched smaller than Justin could have imagined possible for any man. Scarlett bowed demurely, basking in the appreciation of the hometown crowd. The final two queens -- one Black, one white -- who strutted down the stairs were almost naked, wearing nothing but tiny sequined g-strings, jeweled bras, and masses of feathers.
Justin strained his eyes to see better. "Brian?"
"What?" Brian whispered back. He was also gaping at the stage in amazement. He literally had never dreamed a place like this existed on the outside.
"Where are their dicks?" asked Justin, indicating the two showgirls. "I don't even see the hint of a bulge! How do they do that?"
"Ah... um," Brian stammered. "Trade secret, I imagine." He had been wondering the same thing himself. For a moment he suspected that they were ringers -- real women only masquerading as drag queens. But then he realized how tall the two queens were. With their huge platform shoes and feathered headpieces they looked close to seven feet tall! Those were certainly NOT females!
"They gaff 'em, Honey," Bubba said in amusement. "Pull their business back between their legs, shove it between their cheeks, and tape it into place. They could take off that old g-string and it would look just like pussy -- or close enough to fool a room full of fags!"
"Tape back their dicks? Wouldn't that hurt?" Justin gulped. His balls began to ache even thinking about it.
"You'll have to ask 'em after the show," said Bubba. "That's Sugarplum on the left and Hot Chocolate on the right. They may be white and colored, but they're sisters in every way. They live together and you never see one of 'em without the other, on or off stage."
"Like a couple?" Justin frowned. "I mean... are they lovers?"
"Lovers?" Bubba hooted. "I told you they was sisters, Honey! Sisters don't rub up against each other! What you think they are, boy? Dykes? Those ladies like REAL men." Bubba puffed up his chest and winked at Brian. "Like me and Chantilly. Queens want a man who is all man. Ain't that right, brother?"
"That's the way it was in the Quad," Brian admitted, speaking before thinking.
"What's the Quad?" Bubba questioned. "Something up North?"
Brian hesitated for a moment. But if anyone would understand, it seemed to be this queer redneck. "Prison," he said shortly. "Stanton Correctional in Pennsylvania. Medium security facility."
"You were in stir?" Bubba shook his head in disbelief. "Don't seem the type."
"There are all types in prison," Brian commented. "Including some who shouldn't be there." His eyes moved to Justin, whose attention was riveted on the stage.
"What was the child in for?" Bubba asked quietly. These two Yankee boys were turning about to be very interesting -- and full of surprises.
"Drug charge," Brian confided. "Weed he bought for a high school graduation party. He got 5, but only served a year -- thank God!"
"That's harsh," Bubba muttered. "And you, brother?"
"Various things," Brian answered vaguely. "I did 10 years. Got out last spring."
"Ouch," Bubba winced. "I got a brother doing 15 to 20 in Angola down Louisiana way. Manslaughter. Blew away the son of a bitch who was doing dirty with his wife. But you know what they say -- 'Don't do the crime if you can't do the time!'"
"What crime?" Justin turned around, his eyes wide with concern. "Brian?"
"Nothing, kid." Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's neck and brushed his lips against his hair.
"Is everything okay?" Justin closed his eyes and leaned back against his lover.
"It's fine," said Brian. "This is a safe place. So relax. And watch the show."
By Gaedhal
Atlanta, Georgia, July 1979
Brian and Justin stared at the Illusions stage -- and at Rowley, their waiter from that afternoon, dressed in full evening gown drag, tiara included.
"Wow!" Justin marvelled. "He looks exactly like a real woman!"
"Not a woman," Bubba corrected. "A lady. That's a distinction we make clearly down here in Georgia."
"I hope all of you gentlemen -- and whatever else we have here on this fine July evening -- will enjoy our little entertainment," Miss Chantilly proclaimed from the stage. "In honor of the hottest summer in a long time here in HOT-lanta, we call our show 'Georgia Peaches of 1979'! So, without further ado -- on with the show!"
Miss Chantilly stepped back and began singing 'A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody' in a low, sexy contralto. The green velvet curtains opened wide to reveal a glittering golden set with a staircase in the center. Walking down those stairs, like showgirls in the 'Ziegfeld Follies,' was the most mind-boggling array of drag queens that Justin had ever seen. Some were in full drag as their favorite divas -- Judy, Barbra, Bette, and Diana were all accounted for, as well a couple others Justin couldn't identify. One petite queen was dressed as Scarlett O'Hara, her green sprigged muslin dress, picture hat, and parasol perfect in every detail, her waist cinched smaller than Justin could have imagined possible for any man. Scarlett bowed demurely, basking in the appreciation of the hometown crowd. The final two queens -- one Black, one white -- who strutted down the stairs were almost naked, wearing nothing but tiny sequined g-strings, jeweled bras, and masses of feathers.
Justin strained his eyes to see better. "Brian?"
"What?" Brian whispered back. He was also gaping at the stage in amazement. He literally had never dreamed a place like this existed on the outside.
"Where are their dicks?" asked Justin, indicating the two showgirls. "I don't even see the hint of a bulge! How do they do that?"
"Ah... um," Brian stammered. "Trade secret, I imagine." He had been wondering the same thing himself. For a moment he suspected that they were ringers -- real women only masquerading as drag queens. But then he realized how tall the two queens were. With their huge platform shoes and feathered headpieces they looked close to seven feet tall! Those were certainly NOT females!
"They gaff 'em, Honey," Bubba said in amusement. "Pull their business back between their legs, shove it between their cheeks, and tape it into place. They could take off that old g-string and it would look just like pussy -- or close enough to fool a room full of fags!"
"Tape back their dicks? Wouldn't that hurt?" Justin gulped. His balls began to ache even thinking about it.
"You'll have to ask 'em after the show," said Bubba. "That's Sugarplum on the left and Hot Chocolate on the right. They may be white and colored, but they're sisters in every way. They live together and you never see one of 'em without the other, on or off stage."
"Like a couple?" Justin frowned. "I mean... are they lovers?"
"Lovers?" Bubba hooted. "I told you they was sisters, Honey! Sisters don't rub up against each other! What you think they are, boy? Dykes? Those ladies like REAL men." Bubba puffed up his chest and winked at Brian. "Like me and Chantilly. Queens want a man who is all man. Ain't that right, brother?"
"That's the way it was in the Quad," Brian admitted, speaking before thinking.
"What's the Quad?" Bubba questioned. "Something up North?"
Brian hesitated for a moment. But if anyone would understand, it seemed to be this queer redneck. "Prison," he said shortly. "Stanton Correctional in Pennsylvania. Medium security facility."
"You were in stir?" Bubba shook his head in disbelief. "Don't seem the type."
"There are all types in prison," Brian commented. "Including some who shouldn't be there." His eyes moved to Justin, whose attention was riveted on the stage.
"What was the child in for?" Bubba asked quietly. These two Yankee boys were turning about to be very interesting -- and full of surprises.
"Drug charge," Brian confided. "Weed he bought for a high school graduation party. He got 5, but only served a year -- thank God!"
"That's harsh," Bubba muttered. "And you, brother?"
"Various things," Brian answered vaguely. "I did 10 years. Got out last spring."
"Ouch," Bubba winced. "I got a brother doing 15 to 20 in Angola down Louisiana way. Manslaughter. Blew away the son of a bitch who was doing dirty with his wife. But you know what they say -- 'Don't do the crime if you can't do the time!'"
"What crime?" Justin turned around, his eyes wide with concern. "Brian?"
"Nothing, kid." Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's neck and brushed his lips against his hair.
"Is everything okay?" Justin closed his eyes and leaned back against his lover.
"It's fine," said Brian. "This is a safe place. So relax. And watch the show."