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Walking up and down the aisles of the shop, I feel every man’s eyes turn towards me … am I just imagining that they can smell me wet, horny, and wanting? I’m sure it’s not just my imagination when a man stops to ask me something as I bend to reach for an item on the bottom shelf, my ass protruding, my scent released. I stand quickly, too quickly, and loose my balance, did I want to fall into his large frame, his strong arms? No …not yet!
It is too soon to hear that four-letter word, the one I crave, the one I desire, Mine.
More encompassing that love, as it takes trust, honour, and respect to hear that word, yes, and love.
Mine, whispered at that right moment, can bring me to my knees quicker than a slap across the face.
Mine, a word that speaks to something in my core, something flutters and takes me to another place.
Mine, Oh to hear that word … to be owned, to know my place.
All this goes through my head as I stare at the man standing before me. Looking down upon me, softness in his eyes, yet a strength I cannot know is also there. He speaks,
“Thank you, little one” but I suppose anyone next to him would be little, he stands at over 6’ 5” tall.
“For what?” my voice catches in my throat as I look up into his eyes.
“The view” he raises an eyebrow.
“Y, y, your welcome” I stammer, looking down toward the ground, a
scuff mark from a trolley now has my attention captured.
He continues to speak, but the words float over me like a swarm of butterflies, the sound of his voice more musical that an orchestra. It is that accent, where is it from? I cannot define it… I try. However, that would mean focus, and the only thing I can focus on now is the music of that voice, standing there beside me, and his frame, blocking my vision from all else. I feel weak and lean back against the shelves. He leans in, I hear,
“Are you alright, darlin?”
“I am.”
“Do you feel weak?” he leans in closer
“Yes.” I whisper
“Do you need something?” He touches my cheek with the back of his finger
“Yes,” my head lowers and turns towards his hand
“What do you need?”
“You.” I look up into his liquid gold eyes pleading for him to take me, there and then.
“In time my little one, in time” he cups my cheek, leaning down to kiss my offered lips, so lightly, I am sure I imagined it all.
I shake my head and stop staring blindly at the condoms. Moving the trolley into the aisle, I look each way, it is empty.
Was that real? Did that happen? Or is it you inside my head?

‘I have no idea where to begin,’ I blurted to Alex that night at dinner.
‘What are you going on about now?’
‘I’ve been given the task of finding either a drag queen or drag act, or whatever, for the staff function in December.’
‘That shouldn’t be too difficult. Why don’t you ask Peachy?’
‘I’ve already thought of her and some others. I’ll have to dig around and get some contact details.’
‘The Shoobags have their own website,’ said Alex. ‘You can also try the websites for the gay mags. They may have contacts.’
‘Or we could just trawl the pubs and chat to the acts when they’ve finished?’
Alex held up his hand. ‘You can have that on your own.’
‘Gee thanks partner. Nice of you to be so loving and caring.’
‘Anytime my sweet.’
When I finished stacking the dishwasher, I searched the net. I was surprised that after only half an hour, I had found details for four more acts. Along with Peachy Keen and The Shoobags, I had contacts for Freda Mingle, Anita Poke, the Randy Mandys and Lucy Lastic. At least I wouldn’t have to trawl the pubs.
The following Saturday night, I approached Peachy Keen after her second show. Drink firmly in hand, I asked my question. ‘Peachy, do you do corporate functions?’
‘Peter, my love, I’d do anything for you,’ she replied, leaving a nice big red kiss on my cheek, so Alex told me later.
‘I don’t have a date yet though.’
‘As soon as you can give me a definite date, I can pencil it in.’
By the end of the following week, I’d heard from the other five acts. The Shoobags were interested, as corporate was one of their strengths. Freda Mingle said she wanted to know the date before making any kind of commitment. Lucy, Anita and the Mandys said they didn’t do corporate functions.
So, it was all coming down to the date. What would I do if the date was unacceptable?

* * * * *

I sat bolt upright in bed, the Sunday morning after hearing back from the drag acts.
‘What’s the matter? Are you alright?’ asked Alex.
‘I’m fine. I’ve just had the most outrageous thought.’
‘What is it?’
‘Promise you won’t laugh?’
‘I hate it when you get like this,’ said Alex, rubbing his brow. ‘I’ll try.’
‘What if I created my own drag queen?’
Alex laughed.
‘Thanks for that,’ I said indignantly and got out of bed.

* * * * *

On Monday morning, I informed Sally at the first available chance. ‘So far, I have three prospects, except they all want to know the date.’
‘I can help you there. It’ll be the second Tuesday in December.’
‘Now that I have specific details, I can go back to the acts and see what they can do.’
‘Excellent,’ said Sally. ‘Next month we can start planning some of the specifics.’
That night, I sent the date to the three positive responses. Freda Mingle, whom I hadn’t seen perform in quite a few years, responded immediately, saying that the date conflicted with another commitment. Great, I was one down already! Peachy or The Shoobags still hadn’t replied, I was hoping one of those two would be available, at least. Alas, it was not to be. The next to cancel was The Shoobags as the date also clashed with another booking. It was not going well.
June raced by with little progress. The night before the next committee meeting, in early July, I received an email from Peachy. I opened the mail and read it quickly. With an opening line of; ‘After checking my diary …..’, I knew what was coming next. Peachy had to decline as one of her regulars had confirmed they wanted her services for that day. I switched off the computer and stomped down the stairs.
‘What’s the matter, sweetie?’ said Alex glancing up from the TV.
‘I have no act for the function. Peachy’s declined as well.’
‘That’s not good.’
‘Ya think? What am I going to tell the committee tomorrow?’
‘Tell them you’re still investigating. If they want more information, explain how drag time works.’
I had to laugh. Drag time is one of the least understood of all the time frames available. To understand time in relation to the gay community, here is an estimated comparison. There is Standard Time, which the general populace abides by. Then there is Eastern Standard Gay Time (ESGT), which is usually about twenty minutes behind standard time. Next, you have Eastern Standard Drag Time, which can be thirty minutes behind ESGT. Then there’s Dan Time. As much as I love Dan, he has a propensity to be late. If you want him at a function by eight, you need to tell him seven so that he arrives by eight; you get the idea.
‘I know you’re disappointed sweetie, I’m certain an opportunity will present itself that you had not thought of before.’
I snuggled into Alex on the couch. ‘I hope so.’ I lay there, resting comfortably but not really watching what was on TV.
‘What are you thinking about?’ said Alex.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve been drumming your fingers on my leg for the last ten minutes.’
‘Was I? Sorry.’
‘It’s ok.’
I leant over and kissed him.
‘So, what were you thinking?’ he repeated.
‘I was thinking about drag queens.’
‘Anyone in particular?’
‘Not really. Well at least not one that exists yet.’
Alex looked at me oddly.
‘I was thinking again about creating my own drag queen.’
‘Yes, you told me about that idea some weeks ago.’
‘And you laughed at me.’
‘Why don’t we go away for a long weekend?’ suggested Alex.
‘Why? When?’
‘As to why – so you can think about your outrageous idea. As to when, how about the weekend after next?