“Do ‘Jailhouse Rock’!” One wit yelled and Chloe turned to grin at some two hundred pounds of hostile Midwestern beef. The kind who probably tortured school band members like me in high school. Some of his buddies took up the chant and soon we had a lot of not terribly friendly attention focussed right on us. My skin crawled. Somehow, call me crazy, I’d never once dreamed of being gay-bashed on the Strip while wearing Elvis drag.
“You know the Vegas anthem, right?”
“Umm . . . sure,” I volunteered, trying to sound like I had some idea of what she was talking about.
“Well, I’ve been saving this ’til later on tonight but, since you boys are so enthusiastic, we’ll just do it now.” Chloe grinned at our audience while I tried not to pray out loud to anyone who would listen. “Just do what I do,” she said and broke into “Viva Las Vegas” at the top of her lungs.
I picked up the tune at the first chorus and we sang our hearts out. I tried to remember how she moved her hips on stage and did my best imitation, always a few beats off. For a couple of glorious moments, we had a small crowd swaying along and even singing the chorus. Just a pair of dyke Elvises doing the King on the Strip in a city that never sleeps.
We got to the last verse and took our bows. A few people even tossed coins at us and the herd of bad news wandered off in search of other entertainment. Chloe grinned at me, “Sure you don’t want to move here and do this every weekend?”
“Yep.” I collapsed on the ropes and ran my shaking fingers through my slicked back hair. They were brown when I looked down at them. “Damn.”
She laughed. “Come on, I told you we’d go somewhere better.” She dragged me to my feet and towed me along behind her. “You haven’t really lived until you’ve done it on the monorail. And the roller coaster.” Her grin was wicked in the bright lights.
“Why stop there? Why not the fountains at Bellagio?” I was trying my best to look like I did this all the time. Like she wasn’t scaring the crap out of me.
“Spoken like the King hisself! Where have you been all my life?” She struck a pose for someone’s video camera, then handed a business card to a passing group of women. One of them even batted her eyelashes while I tried not to roll my eyes.
“So what happened to going some place quieter?” Great, now I was whining at my Vegas fling. No wonder Sue dumped me.
“Oh, we’ll get there, hon. Don’t you worry. I just like to make sure my friends are ready for a good time when we get there.” She gave me the Look again, so much Elvis that the breath caught in my throat. The fountains were starting to look better by the second and that realization made me uncomfortable. Would I want Chloe as much if she wasn’t Elvis tonight? Then again, did it matter? It’s not as if we were getting married.
We kept walking, fighting our way through the crowds. She kept managing to bump into me, the touch of her body sending ripples through me until I hardly felt anything else. Except tired of being uptight, depressed Pam who just got dumped by her girlfriend. I was the King tonight, dammit, just like my clothes said I was. My doubts evaporated like the mist spray over the casino doors. I reached out to grab her arm and pulled her close. Then in a voice that was more Elvis than mine, I whispered, “I’m ready now, friend,” so close to her ear that my lips brushed her skin.
Chloe’s eyelids dropped so that those big blue eyes looked half-asleep and I could see her lips part in what looked like a pant. My turn. I tugged her down a path and into some bushes in front of a casino I didn’t recognize. A quick look around told me we were alone for the time being and probably out of sight. I fumbled with the zipper on her tight pants while I kissed her, my tongue sliding into her mouth like I did this all the time. The soft plastic of her dildo flopped into my hand and she gave a little moan.
That was all the invitation I needed. I dropped to my knees in the damp grass and closed my lips around the latex. I rocked my head back and forth for a moment, for all the world like it was a real dick and I could smell her, hot and moist with every motion I made. Her eyes were closed and she rolled her head back, loose and limp, but her fingers gripped my shoulders so tightly I knew she couldn’t let go here anymore than I could in the crowd.
I wasn’t so uptight after all and I grinned to myself as I pulled her hips forward and took the entire length of her dick into my mouth. Then I stuck my fingers inside her pants, hunting for a gap in the harness under her pants. I explored her wetness until she gave a little, choked moan that let me know that I was on the right track. Her fingers were in my hair, probably getting covered with brown dye. “Baby,” she whispered between gasps, “let’s go back to my place. C’mon, hon.” She tried to pull back with the words and I grinned up at her.
“Your place? I thought we were going to do it in the fountains and the tram and everywhere else on the Strip. C’mon, Chloe, it’s my first trip to Vegas. How can I leave before I’ve had Elvis all over this town?” I gave her my own version of the Look. It was good enough that she dragged me to my feet and kissed me hard.
“Hey, you two, break it up!” Casino security had finally showed up. Chloe had the dildo tucked in faster than I could have believed and was sprinting awkwardly away from the voice. I took off after her and we bolted down the path to throw ourselves into the river of Saturday night crowds. We got some very curious looks, especially since she was still trying to zip up and run at the same time. I started laughing and, a few breaths later, she joined in. We fetched up on some benches outside one of the big places and howled until our ribs hurt.
It felt great. I hadn’t laughed this hard since, well, I couldn’t remember when. Julio was right. This trip was just what I needed. I wondered if he was having as much fun as I was, then decided that he could take care of himself. Chloe grabbed my hand. “Let’s go check out that tram.” Her eyes were glinting in the glow of the casinos and I was in love. Well, lust, anyway, at least for tonight. I wanted her so bad that everything below the waist was aching, wet and empty. To hell with the tram ride, I was making my move now.
I caught Chloe’s arm to turn her around. Her makeup was smeared and her lips were full, pouting and begging to be kissed. Time to find out if tonight’s electricity was more than good makeup. I gave her my sternest look and placed a hand on either side of her padded shoulders. “I’ve changed my mind about trams and fountains. I want you naked and I want you now.” I managed not to let the grin inside make it to my lips. Sue always said I needed to be more assertive. If I couldn’t do that as the King, it was never happening.
Chloe’s kissable lips curved up in a sweet smile. “Ooh. We’ll have to do something about that. Next block and we can catch the bus. Unless you want to volunteer your room. But I’m guessing that’s being used.” We shared amused smiles. After that, it was all a blur of stolen touches and kisses til we got to her apartment.
If her place was Graceland, I didn’t ever want to see the real thing. Clothes all over the place, old pizza boxes and burned out lightbulbs completed the décor. She locked the door behind us and pressed me up against the wall. This time, we kissed without fear of interruption, her tongue hot and burning in my mouth. My fingers found her nipple through her shirt under what felt like an Ace bandage. She moaned, momentarily drowning the sound of her neighbor’s stereo through the paper-thin walls.
I tugged the glittery jacket off while she fumbled at my belt. I had her shirt unbuttoned by the time she had it all the way out of the loops and I was sucking on her tit through the elastic before she could get any further. By the time I found the end of the bandage and started working it free, she was gasping for air. Out of drag, she was lean and muscular like a greyhound. I wondered what she did besides impersonate the King but this wasn’t the time to ask.
I yanked her pants down, almost taking the homemade harness with them. She scrambled to hang onto it like it was a security blanket or something. “I’ve got a better one inside.” She jerked her head at what had to be the bedroom and grabbed my arm. I followed her, dropping
the jacket and shirt off over a chair as we went.
The bedroom looked better, as if this was where she entertained. There was a life-size poster of Ann-Margret on one wall, Elvis on the other. No need to ask what she was putting in the CD player. The King’s velvet voice filled the room and I got even wetter. Across the room, Chloe was lighting a candle and yanking a bundle of leather out of a drawer. I held out my hand. “I bet that’s just my size.” My voice didn’t even quiver. She looked at me and I looked back, seeing the King in her eyes just like she could see him in mine.
“I bet it fits us both,” she said at last, lips curling into a half smile. She pulled out a dildo and some condoms and laid them all on the bed. I reached for her across the bed and pulled her down next to me. We kissed, tongues wrestling for control until I let her win. I had my hand on her zipper by then anyway and down her pants a minute later. She moaned into my mouth as I slid my fingers into her wet slit and shivered when I found her clit.
I pulled away from her mouth and pushed her down on the bed, running my tongue down between her breasts while I tugged off the harness she was still wearing. Her underpants went with it and I ran my tongue lightly over her bush, then down the damp skin of her thigh. She was gasping now, biting back little moans while I licked my way all up and down her legs, my tongue everywhere but where she wanted it most. I smiled as her hips bucked and wiggled to get closer to my mouth.
I yanked my jeans off and stuck my thigh between hers, thrusting against her. When I decided she’d had enough of that, I drove my fingers into her, feeling her body go rigid then shake with release. Feeling her fingers in my hair, her skin warm and sweaty against mine. I could almost come just from that. Almost. My free hand nudged the dildo and the harness and I gave a final thrust before I stood up to buckle myself in.
She watched me under half-closed lids, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. I rolled the condom on, trying to look like I did this every day then knelt between her legs. That was when she sat up. “That isn’t where I want it, Mr Presley.” She twisted around until she was on her stomach and I was left looking at her ass, my heart racing. She pulled some lube and a glove from the drawer and put them on the bed next to me.
I noticed she wasn’t meeting my eyes and wondered if she’d ever done this before either. Moment of truth time. I pulled a glove on with a snap that almost drowned out “Jailhouse Rock” and squeezed some lube onto my finger. What happened next was a blur of moans and missed openings, of fumbling and feeling our way until I was inside her, my hips rocking and rolling to the King’s voice.
By then I wasn’t just guessing. She was howling like a cat in heat and thrusting herself back against me until my thighs were sliding together in a mix of want and lube. I dug my fingers into her hips, wishing for a moment that the dildo was part of me, that I could feel her hot skin against mine. Her fingers reached for her clit and she wailed into the pillow as she rubbed herself off. I rode her faster, my thrusts rubbing me against the harness until I came with my silicone dick buried in Elvis’s ass.
She came around me a moment later, shaking so hard I thought she’d pass out, especially since her face was buried in the pillow. I pulled out of her and tugged the condom off with as much style as I could manage. Elvis crooned his way to the end of the CD and she turned her head to watch me from the edge of one blue eye. “Viva Las Vegas,” I offered as I lay down next to her and ran my fingertips up her back.
“I told you you’d be the splitting image of the King with a few pointers.” She kissed me, her lips soft and lingering on mine.
“Can’t sing worth a damn, though.”
“Really? Maybe you just need incentive.” Her fingers found the harness buckles and tugged them open. “I think I can help with that too.” I could see her grin in the flickering candlelight and the breath caught in my throat. What the hell, Julio would never believe I did any of this anyway. I could hear latex snap against silicone and skin and tried to stifle a moan. It sounded a lot like something about a hound dog.
To Delphine, With Love and J. D. Salinger
William Starr Moake
It was raining again in Ostend, a bone-chilling drizzle that blew in from the North Sea. Pulling up my coat collar, I slipped and nearly fell on a wet cobblestone street en route to the bistro. The outside of the tiny building was painted like a mural in gay colors with a large eye across the gable roof. It looked out of place in this cold gray city known for its busy shipping port.
I went inside and shook the rainwater off my coat as I looked around the room. There were only a handful of customers in the place and I immediately spotted Delphine sitting alone at a table. She was a young British woman I had been corresponding with via email for a few months. She always ended her emails with “Love, Delphine,” which intrigued me. It was a customary farewell to a person who was emotionally close, but I was a stranger to Delphine – just another chat junkie on the World Wide Web.
Delphine looked exactly like the photo she emailed to me. Winsome was the descriptive word that came to mind. She was thin with short brown hair, dark eyes and a cute face. She glanced nervously in my direction when I approached her table.
“We finally meet.” I smiled.
She gave me a limp handshake and I took a seat.
“You look older than I imagined,” she said.
“I get that a lot. Do they have a decent house wine here?”
“It’s drinkable.”
The waiter brought a carafe of white wine and two glasses. I filled our glasses and took a sip of mine, nodding my approval.
“I like the mural on the outside of the building.”
“Please don’t say it looks picturesque. I might throw up.”
I laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose your breakfast, but it certainly stands out.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Glenmore Hotel.”
“You must be loaded.”
“It’s not that fancy.”
“I suppose your wife is at the Glenmore, thinking you’ve gone shopping or something.”
“I told you I’m divorced.”
“All married men say they’re divorced.”
“But I am divorced. Really.”
“I suppose anything is possible. So you’re a fiction writer, huh?”
“Two novels and a short story collection published in the past five years.”
“Hmm. That’s very impressive.”
“Not as much as you might think. My last book didn’t sell worth a damn.”
“What have you been doing in Belgium?”
I grinned at her. “Did you actually read any of my emails?”
“Of course, but I forget things easily. You’ll have to be patient with me.”
“I visited the Ardennes.”
“Where’s that?”
“In southern Belgium. How long have you lived in this country?”
“Five years, but I don’t get around much. What’s in the Ardennes?”
“You didn’t read my emails.”
“Don’t get angry. Pretend we never corresponded.”
“I went to Bastogne.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of the place.”
“It’s the scene of a pivotal engagement in the Battle of the Bulge.”
A blank stare from Delphine.
“You know, World War II when Nazi Germany tried to conquer England?”
“I wasn’t born yet.”
“Nevertheless, it still happened. You can take my word for it.”
“Now I remember. You told me your father was in the Army.”
“He was one of the soldiers called the battling bastards of Bastogne.”
“Your father was a bastard?”
“Not literally, it was just a nickname. Never mind.”
“Were you in the Army?”
“In Vietnam.”
“You were wounded in battle, I suppose.”
“No, but I didn’t return with all my f-a-c-u-1
-t-i-e-s intact.”
She made a harrumph sound. “You didn’t have to spell out the word.”
“It’s a line from my favorite short story about war. Salinger wrote it.”
“I assume he’s an American author.”
“You’ve never read J. D. Salinger?”
“I’m not terribly fond of American writers.”
“When I get home, I’ll email you an address where you can read some of his writing online.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll talk about myself if you don’t mind.”
“I want to know everything about you.”
“I’m an orphan. My mother may be alive somewhere, probably out of her head on crack and being fucked up the arse by some dodgy Romanian porn director somewhere. My father is very much dead, bless the incestuous swine. But I do miss him sometimes.”
“You like to shock people, don’t you?”
Delphine smiled coyly. “Are you shocked by the way I talk?”
“No, I just wonder why you feel it’s necessary.”
She kept smiling. “Did I tell you I returned to hooking a month ago? My clients are okay, they’re into pretty straight stuff and they’re loaded. I just hate it when they talk too much.”
“You quit your milk bottle job?”
“It didn’t pay enough money to keep a dog alive. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m quite amazing in sex. I give ferocious blowjobs and I come very easily. When I fuck, I go on for at least four hours. I love it up the arse, I like it with girls, I like it tied and gagged and spanked. There’s no one in my life that I haven’t had sex with. The only ones I don’t like are Flemish fishmongers who pay for it.”
“What happened to your boyfriend?”
“Christopher is a rentboy now. He doesn’t like the hooking since he has to fuck really repulsive middle-aged clerics.”
“That’s some life you describe.”
“You mean not respectable. Haven’t you learned yet there’s no such thing as a respectable life? There’s just life.”
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 6 Page 9
