Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Loose Id Titles by Mechele Armstrong
Mechele Armstrong
WINTER’S GAMBLE
Mechele Armstrong
www.loose-id.com
Winter’s Gamble
Copyright © June 2013 by Mechele Armstrong
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eISBN 9781623003845
Editor: Antonia Pearce
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
PO Box 809
San Francisco CA 94104-0809
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
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Dedication
To Kiki Frost, the drag queen that Rose Winter aspires to be.
Chapter One
“And to those who complain about my bitches, I say…” Rose Winter lifted her head in a haughty manner and with a wink to the man looking on, launched into “Fuck You” by CeeLo Green. Her throat caught on the last of the finely strung lyrics, telling her that she’d overtaxed it today. She’d done a pride festival yesterday, last night’s show at the bar Temples, a brunch also at Temples, and now was singing at another bar that had invited her to bring her sexy male revue dancers. They’d wanted it raunchy. She only hoped they knew what they were getting into, and she’d be invited back. This was a popular bar in the city, and they’d never asked for her before during her ten years of being Rose Winter. She’d be gargling honey tonight regardless if they invited her back or not.
From the audience, he shook his head back and forth, his lips pursing into a serious line. He’d seen her stumble vocally. He always did. Some days he noticed too damn much about her.
As the music finished, she bowed a half turn, blowing kisses, clutching her dollar bills tightly to her exaggerated chest, and moved off the stage.
He’d now disappeared. Probably he’d moved toward the back, where the dressing rooms were, making sure she always had water for her parched throat. She couldn’t help but smile as she headed that direction.
She fanned herself lightly, still working the crowd as she meandered and shook a few hands. Never hurt to kiss ass on your first performance.
She only slumped as she neared her dressing area. Her room was just like the one she had at her main gig at Temples, converted from a bathroom when it had been remodeled into a staging area, probably when they started doing drag shows. There was a table, chairs, sink, and toilet in there just like at Temples. High society compared to other places, where it was just a big room in the back separated into small areas with sheets, and drag queens shared, though not willingly, the space.
Her calves hurt from the two-inch heels. Least she hadn’t lost a boob. That had been an awkward show. Even worse than the time the gum had failed on her wig and it had almost shimmied down her back in a glossy exodus of dark locks. He’d saved the day on that one, bringing her more glue to get it temporarily tacked back into place.
He stood by the line of dresses and wigs that Rose had used, which appeared vaguely like a Vegas show had thrown up in there. The snap of the water cap almost made her jump as he opened the bottle with a flourish.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.”
His smile was all too knowing as he passed her the bottle. “You love every minute of it. But I think four Rose Winter’s appearances in almost twenty-four hours is pushing it.”
“Maybe.” Rose took a swig of the water, grateful for the coolness against her savaged throat. “But this…”
“Is the best way to make it.” His eyes glowed with admiration. “Think you’re already there, baby.”
“Maybe.” Rose couldn’t afford to get complacent. She kicked off the shoes and almost sighed in relief at her feet sinking to the floor. Not that the floor was that clean. She tried not to think about that, needing out of those killer shoes.
He moved to her side. “Come on. Let’s get you out of all this. We can have some appletinis at the bar and then go home.”
She nodded and set about the process of putting Rose back into the closet and bringing out Devyn Matthews again.
Carl helped him as usual. It was as much a part of their routine as Carl shaving Devyn’s balls on the afternoon of a performance. Carl’s strong white hands skimmed along Devyn’s calf as he slid down the tightest, roughest pair of pantyhose that ever was. Carl shook his head. His blond hair glinted in the glare of the lights. He wore it shorter than Devyn would like, but the rest of him was perfect in Devyn’s estimation. He’d never been attracted to blonds before Carl. Now he couldn’t imagine not being with a blond. A blond hottie. They’d only had one argument during their time together. It was over marriage. Carl didn’t believe in gay marriage, even though he was for all practical purposes, gay. Devyn would have married him in a second. If that was the only argument to have, maybe it wasn’t much in the grand scheme. But there were times Devyn ached to show his love for Carl in a public way. Maybe that was the problem. Carl was too damn private.
“I don’t see how you wear this shit and like it.” Carl’s voice brought his attention back to the man in front of him.
Carl had done drag once or twice, but it had never been his thing. Not like it was Devyn’s. Devyn was determined that he was going to make it in the world as a drag queen who actually sang. He’d had some modest success around town. This bar, Franco’s, would be another ace in his hand, if he got the gig. “I don’t like it.” Much. “I just do it.” Not true, and Carl knew it. Drag was in Devyn’s blood. Devyn went about taking off his false eyelashes. “Did you like the Donna Summer bit?” It had been a new song for him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. But you know my favorite.”
Of course Devyn did. That’s why Devyn always did Aretha Franklin for at least one song when Carl was at his shows, which was every time. Carl always liked it when he did Aretha. Carl brushed his hand along Devyn’s thigh that had been exposed by the pushed-up sparkly evening gown, his calloused hands pale against Devyn’s darker skin. Devyn’s breath quickened in his throat. Relief at
getting off the trappings of Rose turned into something totally different.
He was still tucked in. He took a deep breath, pushing away all thought of desire. Now was not the time. As usual, he was successful. Whether the strict tuck kept the erection away or whether he’d just gotten good at being mentally aroused but not physically, he wasn’t sure. He’d heard if it was done right, a tuck would make it almost impossible to get an erection.
Carl’s grin was ready, and his blue eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what had happened. “You’re—”
A knock sounded on the door, bringing them both to attention.
“Yeah?” Devyn’s voice came out deep and throaty. Some of that was due to the desire he felt right now, and some was due to overtaxing his throat.
“It’s Vic.” The bar owner. “Can I talk to you about coming back in a week or two to Franco’s? Maybe make it a regular show?”
Devyn’s fist pumped the air. “Yeah. Let me finish getting changed. I’ll meet you at the bar.”
“’Kay.” Footsteps led the large man away. He was probably doing some fist pumping of his own. Franco’s had been struggling with trying to find a LBGT niche to cement its popularity. Rose had a following, and they’d shown up in droves.
“Told you the work would pay off.” It would be a great gig in addition to an occasional drag brunch, many other sporadic appearances, and his already successful Sensual Saturdays at Temples, which was closer to his home.
“I never doubted it.” Carl rubbed his hand against Devyn’s thigh, making shivers down Devyn’s spine. “Never.” He moved up and placed his lips atop Devyn’s. It branched out into a firestorm that did little to settle down Devyn’s libido. He needed his junk free.
Carl’s hand slipped up under the dress to the tight bikini-style panties that Devyn wore.
“Going to take me down?” Devyn pressed a trail of kisses down Carl’s cheek to plant one under his jawline.
Carl swallowed noisily. “Maybe I shouldn’t. You’re supposed to go see Vic at the bar, and we know what happens when I help…”
“So?”
“It’s your first time here…”
“And I need to be untucked, man. So I can get into jeans and pack up all this shit to take home.”
Carl nodded. He used one hand to slide the dress up and over Devyn’s smooth thighs. He found the top to the women’s underwear with his other hand, before slipping the garment down over Devyn’s hips, careful not to disturb any of the tape. It was duct tape, and though Devyn shaved everything there, it was best to tread carefully and slowly, or Devyn could end up in a world of hurt. But Carl knew that. He was always careful.
Devyn watched as Carl licked his lips. Oh yeah. Maybe Vic had no idea how long it would take a drag queen to de-drag. Because getting untucked wasn’t going to be enough.
Not for him.
Using baby oil, Carl carefully worked the tape from Devyn’s skin, taking his time to slide each piece off and let Devyn’s dick settle back down. His balls had a slight ache in them from being pushed back up into his body, but as usual, it wasn’t bad. Sometimes it took a bath, but most times, the baby oil was enough to get the duct tape loose without pain. Some drag queens used gaff panties or first-aid tape to get things out of the way, but those had never worked for Devyn.
Carl used a warm, wet washcloth to wipe off the baby oil and the last of the stickiness. Allowing his hands to linger, Carl’s breathing changed into rapid escalation. His fingers moved close by Devyn’s dick but not close enough.
So Devyn rectified that. He shifted his hips, rubbing his dick against those close digits, which Carl slowly unclenched, taking Devyn into his hand. Devyn’s dick found that erection that had been lacking while he’d been tucked. Thankfully, once things were untucked, his cock and balls sprang back into action without a problem, especially when Carl was around and helping him get undressed.
Carl’s eyes closed as Devyn shifted himself into Carl’s possession as much as he possibly could. “You sure about this?” His voice came out raspy and full of futile air. “You’re doing a job.”
Devyn wiggled his hips, prolonging the contact as much as he could. “I’m getting asked back. Besides, this won’t take long.” Not as horny as he found himself. It was like this after every show. Something about the adrenaline of the performance took over his libido. But it had never been more evident than now.
Carl moved his hands away from Devyn and turned away.
“What the fu—” Devyn stopped as the door lock clicked into place. Leave it to Carl to think beyond his dick. “Oh.”
Carl turned back toward him with a determined glint in his eyes. “Can’t have anyone interrupting.” His voice was matter-of-fact and concise, just like him. He slipped his hand down and cupped Devyn with a firm grasp.
“Fuck, no. Can’t have any interrupting.” He wiggled his hips so that his rigid dick bucked against Carl’s hand.
Carl ran his hand up and down Devyn’s length, going from tip to base. He moved his hand underneath Devyn and gently massaged his balls.
Devyn made a sound, which probably sounded suspiciously like a cat, either in heat or wanting some kitty pussy.
Carl quickly did the same again, pressing his fingers into the slit at the end, playing in the wetness. He moved his hand up and down Devyn’s full rod with increasing speed.
Devyn widened his stance, trying not to fall on his ass in the middle of the dresses on the dressing room floor. He moved his body to give Carl better access before yanking the gown up and over his head. Damn thing was getting in the way.
Carl moved closer and kissed him.
Before Devyn knew what was happening, the bra that held his fake tits was loose and hanging from him. Devyn moved his hands up slowly to catch it and drop it gently to the floor. “You know your way around a bra.” Carl was flawless. Always had been. He’d have been a woman’s dream.
Carl chuckled. “The backseat of my car, before I realized I was gay, was quite busy.”
Carl had been late to the party. He’d known he was different but had tried to deny what he was for many years. Until he’d moved into his thirties and realized he hadn’t loved the girl he was with, he was using her as a safety net for his real affections. Men. He’d come clean, broken up with the woman, and soon after had met Devyn. That had been nine years ago. He’d never looked back at being hetero. Though the guys he worked with in the restaurant every day would be shocked at who he took to bed every night. A mixed-race drag queen in a Southern state in the United States? Yeah, they’d never give him peace about his choices.
Devyn had been out the closet since he’d dressed in his sister’s dresses, fake heels, and feather boas as a five-year-old. His talent had been singing, which had taken him more places than he’d ever expected. Like here. But his defiance to conformity had been what had garnered him Carl. After being in seclusion for so long, Carl appreciated Devyn’s openness to what he was, a damn talented queer queen with a voice that could raise the rooftops. Even if humbleness wasn’t a trait that Devyn had.
Carl slowly put his hands back on Devyn with careful, gentle stroking. Treated Devyn like he was precious.
Only that wouldn’t get the job done. Not by a long shot. And they didn’t have much time.
Carl’s voice shocked Devyn before he could even speak. “You’re thinking you could do this.”
It was true. Any man could give himself a handjob. It was the other stuff that was hard for one person to do to himself. “Yeah.”
Carl moved his hand up to fondle Devyn’s ass cheek before clenching him tighter against Carl’s body. His other hand didn’t move from Devyn’s dick. “I don’t get on my knees for anyone.” His voice had a wildness to it that Devyn rarely heard.
Maybe he liked tempting the fates too, just as Devyn did. “I know.”
Carl removed his hand and lowered himself to his knees. As he mentioned, he didn’t do this often, not only because usually they’d be in bed. He wasn’t one to go dow
n on Devyn.
Devyn watched as Carl seemed to go in slow motion, moving his head up so that his mouth was positioned just so in front of Devyn’s dick. He watched as the man moved his lips slowly toward his throbbing flesh.
Too fucking leisurely.
Carl’s eyes twinkled as he looked up at Devyn. “Problem?”
“Not if you’d move your fucking head an inch forward.” Carl’s mouth locked around Devyn’s dick as the last word escaped his mouth.
His voice was strangely muffled as he spoke around Devyn’s dick. “Your wish is my command.”
Yeah, right. Not usually. But maybe today. Devyn leaned his head back, getting his purchase on the floor. Last thing he wanted to do was have his knees buckle and send him to the ground. With his luck, he’d break something. That would be an explanation to the emergency crew he didn’t want to make.
He shivered as he closed his eyes from the blinding fluorescent lights and tried to shut out the pumping music from the bar outside that door.
Reality.
It often camped outside for them.
But this was the thing he wanted to concentrate on and experience. Moments like this. Other than when he was onstage, this was him at his best.
Carl slipped his hand around him to treasure his aching balls. He was gentle, far gentler than usual because he knew the way they’d been worn.
He petted Devyn’s dick with his tongue, licking and basting him all the way up his extended length.
Bliss.
Faster and with more suction than Devyn thought possible, Carl moved his mouth up and down and then back to the root, taking in as much of Devyn’s dick as he possibly could. He deep throated Devyn, causing multitiered sensations to rocket around Devyn in an instant.
He flamed up, feeling heat all over his body.
Winter's Gamble Page 1
