Flashed!

After the Show “Chuck’s got it,” the drag queen known as Devine tells a makeup assistant when asked if he needs a drink. Sinking into his vanity chair, he waves her away with his hands as if drying his well-manicured nails. She leaves. In the mirror he plucks off glittery eyelashes that leave his tired eyes red. He wants to lie back, dip his fingers into a tall glass of water, and press the wet tips against his shadowed lids. Where is that bouncer? Propping his feet up on the vanity, he stretches out, his head on the back of the chair. His wig falls to the floor; his eyes slip shut. Absently he unties the corset he wears. Beneath it he sweats. Water sounds wonderful… Someone enters his dressing room. “It’s about time,” he mutters without opening his eyes. “You better be Chuck.” The door shuts as a gruff voice confirms, “It’s me.” Suddenly something hard and cold and wet presses against Devine’s forehead—an ice cube. “You wanted water?” “Please,” he sighs. The ice moves down his nose, chilling a path to his open mouth. Chuck rims his lips with the cold chip but when his tongue licks out, the bouncer pulls away. “Please.” Almost a sob. The ice glides down the curve of his neck into the hollows of his throat, then trickles over his chest to melt somewhere around his navel. At his crotch, a rough hand cups the erection straining his panties. Fingers ease beneath the silky fabric to stroke him hard. “Please.” He could cry. The corset is open now, the panties pushed aside. Strong fingers encircle his c**k. “My hose,” Devine cautions as he thrusts into the bouncer’s hand. Chuck toys with the lacy hem of the black thigh-highs and says, “Leave them on.”