MAKE ME UP

PARTIES AND PROMISCUITY

Flicking the wings off the corners of Iona’s eyes, I can feel the nerves trembling throughout her body. Her make-up looks even more fabulous than it did in the apartment with the aid of brighter lights. Sneakily, I look at the competition, only to find my business cards scattered across the dressing room. When Iona turns around to see what I’m looking at, with her majestic wig perfectly placed, and her lilac dress swishing, I notice that some of the other acts have slipped my card into their garters, bras, and handbags.

“I’m so nervous” Iona confesses in hushed whispers.

“No you’re not, you’re Iona Rodd, and they are calling you on the stage”. I reply. “I’m so excited. This is my first drag show.” I smile at her, and from that simple comment, Iona stands taller, pushing her chest out, and gliding in heels in a way I can only be envious of.

“I’ll make sure it’s not your last!” She replies, winking at me as she follows the call of her name on stage, and I can’t see a single tremble anymore.

Rushing to the front of the audience where I managed to reserve a table, I order a whiskey and lemonade, appreciating the sherbet taste it leaves in my mouth.

“Iona Rodd everybody!” The announcer calls out, creating rapturous applause.

Iona walks on stage, her face is set, her lips pinched up in disgust. I look around to see if someone has upset her, but she simply looks the announcer up and down, her nose lifting further into the air. The applause turns silent, as everyone seems to be waiting for an argument rather than a comedy show. That was when I noticed the cheeky glint in her eye.

“I thought you just had something in your pocket. You dirty sod. Get off and take your ‘rodd’ with you!” She chastises the announcer as if he is a rude school boy.

Just like that, the tension is broken, and everyone has their head thrown back in laughter, showing their crowns and fillings without a care in the world. Implicit in the joke, the announcer scoots off-stage holding his clipboard in front of his crotch, and laughing with the same enthusiasm as the audience. Iona had ten minutes to fill, but everyone groaned when the time was up, declaring that it had only been three minutes at most. I had a hand on my rib, trying to rub the ache out of it from laughing to the point where breathing was difficult. Others were holding their aching cheeks, and already snippets of the funniest lines and jokes from the acts were being repeated. The standing ovation shocks Iona a little, but she sweeps her feathered dress to the side like the drag empress of the night, and struts off-stage as if someone had just interrupted her coronation.

Patiently, I wait for Iona at the reserved table. Luckily, they sell champagne by the glass here, and so I have a flute waiting. It was such a success that there was little to do other than celebrate. Iona was insistent that she wasn’t going to spoil her masterpiece outfit in the bar area, and had even brought a suit bag to protect the dress. Make-up and wig still in place, Iona joins me wearing black jeans and a corset.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you!” I boast, as I throw my arms around Iona.

When I pull away I can see her eyes have become misty.

“Thank-you so much for being here. I would have run home in these heels if it wasn’t for you. I’ve never had anyone cheer me on before. I could hear you laughing, and at one point I looked over, and you were laughing so hard, I wasn’t sure you were breathing”. The amazement at the support she received rushes out, and I can see that Luis’ doubt is slipping into his act.

Yesterday, he assured me he wouldn’t break Iona’s character until we left the bar, but I understood how that was easier said than done.

I handed her a glass of champagne and toast their incredible act. By the end of the performances, we are both drunk. It was not from the alcohol as we were both still sipping from our first glass, but rather the jubilation of friendship and success. For Luis, something monumental had happened tonight that took him a step closer to his dream, and I had been there to see it. Our bond was closer than ever before.

“Fancy a lock-up?” The bartender asks us, while flirting shamelessly with Luis, who had taken off the wig now, complaining of the weight, and dropped Iona’s character for the night.

Three drinks later, and a few additional acts who were soaring off the success of their own performances, I had made a few new friends and had plenty of new make-up bookings. Although Luis had made it clear that he had found me first, so he would have first option on the make-up styles. I had thought he was being funny, but the rest of the artists nodded in agreement. Make-up was no joke in the drag queen community.

“So you never told me how your evening with your superstar went”. Luis begins, laughing at the hidden joke about the real identity of my date.

“It was nice…” I admit, thinking of how I held onto his back as I had deepened our kiss.

“You little madam, something happened, and you didn’t tell me!” Luis exclaimed, reading my blush as if it were the Sunday times.

“We kissed… It was incredible…I’ve never known anything like it…the attraction I felt for him was almost addictive…and then we dropped back to earth, and now I just feel confused about the entire thing”. I admitted.

“Girl, if you’ve had a kiss so intense that you literally felt as if you were flying, what is there to be confused about?” One of the other performers asks me, showing genuine concern.

I’m perplexed. They had taken my literal landing as metaphorical, but the description was accurate. It took them to say it to make me realise it. He had made me soar from his attentive nature and affection. Every time I think about his soft lips on mine, the way he towered over me, while still making me feel powerful and in control, the heat in my heart burns a little stronger than before. I look up to see them all staring at me, and I realise I have zoned out.

“We were in a hot air balloon, but it was like flying when he kissed me. I was able to leave all my worries on the ground, my mind was completely paused and present at the moment. Now, I just feel shy. I’m not sure what comes next, and if I’m ready to start anything. My life is a bit of a mess”. I explain, and laugh as they look at me again, wondering what my hesitation is about.

“Maybe you are out of practise with relationships and intimacy. I’ve never once seen you take anyone home”. Luis observes, and I wish I could say his assumption is correct, but that would be a lie.

When I first moved to London I went a little wild. I’d been so unhappy with Tim, and I felt that a lot of experiences and right of passages had been denied me. Soon, I realised that I hadn’t really missed out on clubbing and promiscuity, because every encounter I had felt like a bigger disappointment than the last. My first attempt at ‘letting loose’ ended up being me reviewing his performance every thirty seconds when he asked,

‘How are you getting on?”

Surprisingly, he couldn’t understand why he was getting a negative review at the five-minute mark, when he sought out more validation and asked me,

“Did you c*m?”

To which I replied, “Yes, to the wrong house”.

On reflection, he was better than the man I have since christened ‘Tommy Gun Done’ who seemed to think a gold medal would be waiting for the first one who finished, and then, couldn’t understand why if we started at the same time, we didn’t finish at the same time. There seemed little point in telling him I’d never left the starting block.

Yet these could have been considered the modern day Casanovas compared to the fella that confused my clit with chewing gum, the other who rubbed my entire v****a like he was trying to start a bush fire in the worst possible way-we barely managed to light a match between us in the end. The dapper looking man in an expensive suit who lasted all of thirty seconds, and I unashamedly told him that I had had a fart last longer than that. He looked horrified by my comment, but indifferent to the blatant fact that I had called him a selfish lover. Unfortunately, the final nail in the climax coffin was the interesting guy who referred to his p***s in the third person, ‘he’s so ready for you baby’ and the like. Admittedly, a little dirty talk never did me any harm, but it was done to such an extent that I had to look around the bedroom at one point to make sure I hadn’t accidently been part of a threesome.

My friends were staring at me, as I finished the rest of my glass, then burst out laughing.

“Those are some escapades, it sounds like you’re owed a good time with a man who can make you feel good in every possible way”.

To my utter horror, I realise that the trip down the red light lane wasn’t as much of an internal monologue as I thought. Squinting my eye at the whiskey glass, it would appear I had drunk more than I realised. Luis reaches over and gently grabs my hand.

“Go on, send him a text. I bet he’s been waiting for you to approach him, he sounds like a gentleman from what you have told me. He left the ball in your court. It’s time to serve it back to him, and get the game in play,” he urges me.

“I’m too drunk to understand all that metaphor, all I can see are tennis balls. What should I text him?”

“Ask him about his day, and then tell him what you have in mind for your second date. You have Dutch courage on your side, you can do this”.

I take out my phone from my pocket. I hadn’t let Tim ruin my mood tonight. I hadn’t even read this message, I had simply opened it and closed it just as quickly. I wasn’t going to read it now either. For once, I was going to do what I wanted, and that was to text Lincoln.

“Hi, I hope you’ve had a good day. I’ve had loads of fun, and wanted to end my night by talking to you. I can’t offer air balloons, but I’d love to have a date two with you, if you’d like that too. x”

The most awkward text in history is zooming through the airways, and I’m sweating with anticipation. By the time we are in the taxi going home, the quick buzz has me instantly digging through my pockets.

“I’ve had a brilliant family day today. My nephews have been around and trashed my house. I’d love a date two with you. What do you fancy doing?”