Copyright 2018 © by Jess Whitecroft
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Cover photography by AlexAnnaButs, licensed by Shutterstock.
Seven Deadly Queens
by
Jess Whitecroft
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Chapters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
1
Outside a chill wind blew off the rivers, and there was the brackish whiff of snow in the air. Inside, the church smelled comfortably of childhood memories, of hot wax and incense and the old needlepoint kneelers that were such a pain in the ass to Dust Bust, because the threads sometimes came loose.
When the door closed the confessional was a lot smaller than he remembered, which was kind of worrying because he was sure he hadn’t gained weight or anything. The smell was the same though, because it was winter and Father O’Reardon would be sucking on those gross menthol cough candies that he swore saved his voice in the cold months.
The grille slid back. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s…uh…actually it’s been a while since my last confession.”
“Do you know how long?”
“Uh…ppfft…not sure? I guess I can tell you this, but there’s kinda been a lot of weed around lately and that’s not great for my short term memory.”
There was a sigh and a puff of breath and menthol in the narrow space. “Okay. And what sins do you accuse yourself of?”
“Well, there’s the weed, obviously. And impure thoughts. I’ve touched myself while listening to my roommates boning. And sometimes while watching. And sometimes while joining in. Like, I know it’s been a while, and I can’t remember if I told you about the threesomes…”
“With the high school athletic coach and the drag queen?”
“Yeah. So I did mention that before?”
Father O’Reardon sighed. “Is that you, Justin?”
“Yes, Father.”
Another sigh. “All right, son. It’s a busy time of year for me. Can we at least get it down to the top five?”
“Okay,” said Justin, reminding himself that he was in church and not allowed to pop boners or curse. “So, there was another threeway. And some watersports, I guess? You know? Where you pee on one another? I don’t know if they tell you about that in priest school. Then I kind of banged my dealer in lieu of payment…well, not exactly in lieu. More of an IOU, really, but it was pretty great and we’ve been hooking up, and then the other night we played this game where I was blindfold and had to guess what was going in my butt, and I don’t know where God stands on people putting vegetables inside one another but—”
“—all right, Justin. I get the picture—”
“—he put a condom on it and all, because you know how zucchini sometimes have those prickly little hairs all up and down—”
“—Justin.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just been kind of a while since I did anything freaky with produce like that. Oh, and did I mention the watersports?”
“Yes, you did,” said Father O’Reardon. “Justin, you really ought to stop smoking that stuff. It’s doing terrible things to your short term memory.”
“I know. My boss says the exact same thing,” said Justin, and tried to steer things back on track. “So the zucchini thing…are vegetables like mortal or venial?”
“Son, you’re splitting hairs at this point.”
“Yeah, I know. My soul’s kind of filthy, right?”
There was a pause. “It’s…not the cleanest,” said the priest. “Ten Hail Marys, twelve Our Fathers. Make an Act of Contrition and please, Justin…try not to stick any more vegetables up your arse.”
“Okay. I’ll try,” Justin said. “Thanks Father.”
“You’re welcome. How’s your grandmother?”
“Oh, yeah – she’s good. She’s still got the bag and that, but at least she’s peeing.”
“That’s good to know. Give her my best, won’t you?”
“Yes, Father,” said Justin, and bowed his head. “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments…”
Like most good Catholics, Justin said his prayers and went back to the bar. It was late Saturday afternoon and they were closed for a handful of hours while everyone got ready for the night ahead. Legs, arms and crotches shaved, eyebrows plucked, wigs styled, and boy parts subjected to scary shit involving tissue paper, tight panties and duct tape. There was no sign of Bunny, his boss, who had more to tuck than most and whose drag persona was the kind of salty, filthy whore who made Justin’s boy parts get bigger.
He went upstairs to the apartment. The door was open. Helena sat on the floor at the end of the coffee table, in front of a portable make up mirror edged with tiny lights that lit up every line and freckle on his face. “Find the most unforgiving light you can,” Helena often said. “Then paint under that. Under every other light you’ll be perfect.”
The base was already on, making an eyebrowless, airbrushed mask of Helena’s face. Her boyfriend, Hu – who was all boy and looked prettier as a boy than some queens looked as girls – was watching from the couch. Justin didn’t blame him. Although Justin found the whole idea of dressing up as a woman himself kind of squicky, he was always fascinated by the process of transformation. Especially with Helena, who as Stephen was so boyish that growing his thick auburn hair down to his shoulders had only managed to make him look like a hot baby Viking.
“Hey, Sweetie,” he said, not taking his eyes from the mirror as he painted on his new eyebrows. “Have you seen Bunny?”
“Nope,” said Justin, taking a seat on the couch. “Wasn’t downstairs.”
“Huh. Maybe she’s still at Ryan’s.” Stephen glanced at his phone. “She’d better get a fucking hustle on, else she’s going to end up going on stage with wet eyeliner again.”
“Oh, is that what happened with the one raccoon eye?” said Hu.
“Yep. One Lucille Bluth wink and that shit was everywhere. Did the whole set in the throes of a major make-up malfunction.” Stephen jabbed at the phone. “She’d better not be trying that shit with the mayonnaise, either.”
“Mayonnaise?” Justin’s libido, temporarily quelled by the presence of God, stretched its monstrous jaws. They’d never done anything with mayonnaise, although he had licked whipped cream off Bunny’s dick while Ryan fucked him from behind and growled encouragement in his ear. Get that good and wet, baby, because it’s going right up your ass after I come.
Goddamn. French fries and mayonnaise. Was that even a thing? He had a craving all of a sudden.
“Joan Crawford,” said Helena. “Used to use a whole jar of Hellmann’s as a hair mask. So of course Bunny tried it.”
“Gross.”
“It was,” said Hu. “It melted from the heat of his scalp and dripped all over everything. Ryan says his entire apartment still smells like a sandwich.”
“Where were you, anyway?” said Helena, glancing over the top of the mirror at Justin.
>
“Who? Me? Church.”
“Church? Is that a new bondage club or something?”
“No. Church,” said Justin. “The big fancy building with God in it.”
Helena still looked confused. “You go to church?”
“Sure. I was an altarboy. Cradle Catholic, bitches.”
It was Hu’s turn to look confused. “Wait – aren’t they the ones who go around feeling guilty all the time?”
“Yeah,” said Justin. “I don’t know what’s up with that. Like, that’s why you confess, right? So you don’t feel guilty?”
“I have no idea,” said Helena. “My folks were Lutherans, so…”
Justin shrugged. “You’re missing out. Us Catholics – we go to church, we confess, say some prayers…it’s all good, man.”
Helena stared for a moment. “You know, I’ve often wondered how you manage to stroll through life with a complete absence of sexual guilt, but that…that was not an answer I imagined.”
“Not to mention that there are probably some very traumatized priests wandering around Pittsburgh,” said Hu.
“Seriously,” said Helena, picking up an eyebrow pencil. “I know church attendance is down, but Jesus, Justin – how do you find a priest with the time on his hands to hear your confessions? It must be like listening to the entire audiobook of Lord Of The Rings, except dirty.”
Justin rummaged in the front pocket of his shirt and found his lighter and a blunt he’d tucked there for after church. He’d debated about leaving it in there, but he figured God couldn’t be that mad about marijuana since He’d invented the stuff in the first place. And there was no way whoever wrote the book of Revelations wasn’t on some severely mad shit.
“You want?” said Justin, offering it to Hu, who shook his head.
“No. Thank you. I always find it just makes me anxious.”
“Helena? You want a hit offa this before you do your lips?”
“Hell, yeah,” said Helena, reaching out. “And quit staring at me.”
“I can’t help it,” said Justin. “It’s interesting, the way you do all the shading and stuff.”
“It’s art,” said Hu.
“It totally is.”
“If you find it so fascinating you should try it sometimes,” said Helena, and took another deep toke before handing it back to Justin. She exhaled slowly in a thin stream. “You’d find it a lot more boring if you had to do it on the regular, I guarantee.”
Hu raised an eyebrow and glanced at Justin. “You’ve never…?”
“What me? Dragged up? No. Never. I’m a boy. All boy.” Justin tried not to, but he couldn’t help but check out Hu, who was so fucking pretty that Justin had no idea how Helena resisted going to town on him with the brushes and the lipstick and the eyelashes, just to see how beautiful he would be as a girl. “You should try it, though. You’d make an insanely hot drag queen, especially with those cheekbones.”
“Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Justin.”
“I’m not. I’m just being friendly.”
“Your idea of friendly usually involves hand stuff,” said Helena. “At the very least.” She giggled and went to work on an eyelid, blending peach into a delicate mauve. “Here’s something I’ve always wondered – how many friends do you have that you haven’t fucked?”
“Hu,” said Justin. “We’ve never fucked.”
Hu looked nervous. “Yeah, no offence, but I’m sort of…”
“…taken,” said Helena, looking smug. “And Hu doesn’t count, because he’s not single and because you know I’d kill you if you tried anything.” She smiled but her bright hazel eyes held a flash that was surprisingly alpha male coming from a guy wearing curlers and eyeliner. In bed, Helena was a sweetly controlling little top who seldom got too freaky with it unless there was molly involved. “You’ve had me, and Bunny, and Ryan, and Lenny, and then Richard that time when him and Joy were on a break, and then Joy the other time they were on a break…”
“Uh uh,” said Justin. “That wasn’t a break.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope. It was like a threeway situation. Hot, but not as hot as Bunny and Ryan.” Justin sighed, wistfully remembering Bunny – hands and knees on Ryan’s coffee table, wearing nothing but a shiny black leather corset and matching thigh high boots. Spanked pink ass, big brown eyes and a riding crop between his teeth. Hell, yeah. “I think they’re like, my ultimate sex sandwich.”
“Gross,” said Helena, hurrying to change the subject. “What about Venus?”
“Venus doesn’t count.”
Helena paused mid-eyelash application. “Wait – did you have sex with Venus?”
“No,” said Justin. “But we’re not friends, so it doesn’t count. I can’t stand her ass.”
“Tess,” said Hu.
“Duh,” said Justin.
Helena moaned. “Justin, no. You’re her boss.”
“So? Bunny’s my boss and I fuck her.” Justin’s head was once again full of moaning and lingerie and legs. God, those legs. He didn’t know which was hotter – the legs themselves or the way they turned Ryan into a drooling mess every time Bunny put on a pair of heels.
“But Tess?” said Helena. “Justin, there’s no way this isn’t going to end in tears.”
“It did,” said Justin. “Mine. She’s a Whole Lotta Rosie and change. Almost snapped me in two. Besides, it was just a friendly hookup.”
Helena rolled her eyes and sighed. “Devan,” she said, and it took Justin a moment to realize she was talking about Sheila the Dealer. “What about him?”
“Stuck a zucchini in my ass the night before last.”
“Okay,” said Hu, struggling to keep a straight face. “And was he just being friendly?”
Justin shrugged. “Playful. Yeah – that was it. It was a playful zucchini.”
Helena fanned her eyelash and glanced at Hu. “Welcome to my world, baby – where we discuss the nuances of inserting squash into people’s rectal cavities. How have you not run screaming yet?”
Hu laughed. “You know me. I love to learn new things.” He leaned forward. “So, Justin – define playful. Was it like a platonic kind of playful?”
“Can you platonically push things into someone else’s asshole?” said Helena.
“I would hope so, or the guy who did my last prostate exam must be really confused about our relationship.”
“Goddamn it, Hu. Stop making me laugh when I’m trying to put my eyelashes on.”
Justin slumped back on the sofa cushions and giggled. “If you’re trying to ask me if I’m banging Sheila, then yes. We’re banging.”
“Justin, this is terrible.”
“Why? I’m safe. I’m on the level with everyone. I’m always clear that it’s just for fun and I don’t give anyone unrealistic expectations about how we’re going to have a relationship and shit. What’s the problem?”
Helena shook her head. “And it doesn’t bother you that you don’t have any friends you haven’t boned?”
“Is that a thing?” said Justin.
“Yes.”
“So you and Bunny…?”
“No!”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” said Helena. “Why does everyone think I’m having sex with Bunny?”
“I don’t know,” said Justin. “Just you two are really close. And sometimes you take off your clothes and make out with each other.”
Helena looked despairing. “Yes, honey, but we do that for attention on Instagram, not because we’re into each other sexually.”
Justin frowned. It didn’t compute. “How can you not be into Bunny sexually? Bunny’s fucking hot. And hung.”
“I know. But I’m not. We’re not.” Helena carefully removed a curler that was bobbing loose. “I love Bunny, but that’s the beauty of it, you see. We love one another in a non-sexual way. That’s how friendship works. You don’t mean to tell me you’ve never had that?”
Justin thought for a moment. “Well, I�
��m kinda close with my cousin, I guess…”
“Wait, is this the same one who put his penis inside you?”
“Oh. Yeah. Oops.”
“Oh Justin.” Helena sighed and sat back on her heels. “Okay – here is your mission, should you choose to accept it. Find someone you like, and make friends with them.”
That sounded easy. “And then what?”
“Be friends. And don’t have sex with them. Just be friends.”
Justin narrowed an eye, already identifying a loophole. “Can it be a girl?”
“Sure. Girl, boy and everything in-between or agender. Doesn’t matter. Just as long as you don’t fuck them. Or try to fuck them. Just accept their friendship for what it is.”
“Okay,” he said, and immediately thought of Father O’Reardon. “Do members of the clergy count?”
Helena looked like she was about to say something salty, but then Bunny came in, looking rushed and testy.
“Hey sweetie,” said Helena.
“Ugh,” said Bunny. “Grand Central Station again, I see. Why did you insist on putting up a Christmas tree in here? There’s barely enough room for people.”
Helena’s freshly applied lashes went into overdrive. “I said ‘hey, sweetie,’ but okay.”
Bunny unwound a thick red wool scarf and sighed. “You know me and Christmas. One more person says Merry Christmas to me with that smug, Trumpy look on their face, I’m gonna beat them to death with a fucking menorah.” He tossed his coat over the back of the couch and slammed the bedroom door.
Helena exhaled through pursed lips. “Oh dear.”
Justin got up from the couch. “Let me deal with this,” he said, taking another blunt from his pocket. He lit up, knocked, and – when Bunny stuck his head around the door – promptly stuck the joint in-between his lips. Bunny latched on to it like a nursing infant and opened the door, so Justin slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Seven Deadly Queens (The FuBar Book 3) Page 1
