Chrysalis Part 2-Chapter 34
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the copyright owned to the extent permitted by law. Please contribute to Nifty. They do a great job of providing stories that please the senses, titillate the mind, and expand our view of the world.
Chapter 34--Chicago Reunions
The flight from New York to Chicago was fun because his friends from Silent Model and from Slackers were sitting in a group. Chris and five others from now Dreamweaver-East checked into their rooms at the Hotel Burham, an 1895 building on the National Historic Register because it was one of the first skyscrapers in Chicago, and its association with Al Capone. The rooms were done in a heavy gold bed cover, velvet headboard and royal blue swag drapery, which Chris thought were too heavy, but the views were spectacular. The mattresses were heavenly, and you had a choice of pillow type: foam, down or buckwheat. A choice of pillow type, Chris thought as he looked down on Chicago. Just two months ago, folded clothes were a luxury pillow. He worried about Hank and Dion. He felt guilty for the pampered life he led, the donations to the Chicago Homeless Shelter helped his guilt. Chris felt he should be on the street gathering Hank and Dion and caring for them although he knew that they would not accept any help. Living on the streets is dangerous, but it had its own sense of freedom, but he was not willing to go back. His meandering down guilt road was cut short by a rap at his door. "Hey Chris," Boyd greeted Chris as he opened the door and barged in. They were to be roommates since Tom was off to England for a few days. "What you think of the digs?" Chris' eyes swept the room. "The view is fantastic." Boyd threw himself on the bed laughing hysterically, "God Chris, condemnation by omission. The place reeks stodgy." Chris threw himself on the bed beside Boyd. "The mattresses are nice." Both erupted in laughter. "Plans?" "Your town, you show us." Boyd turned to face Chris and ran a finger across his lips. "Zack and Leandra are changing. They need to look ravishing." Chris laughed at that because the two would look ravishing in paper bags. "So, any suggestions?" "My dining experience is mostly limited to the burbs, where my parents live, and dumpsters near the Loop where I lived." Chris's laugh was edged with pain. "Hamburger Mary's has a good reputation for a fun place to eat. Sunday night should not be a problem to find a seat. It's within walking distance."
"Just my kind of place," Leandra said as she looked around the dive. "Good food and low key: jeans and T-shirt." Boyd agreed but Zac was unsure. "Reminds me of a few places in Key West," She continued while Chris checked with the host, a big wigged, big bosomed drag queen. "Forty-five to an hour wait," Chris said, turning to his companions. "We passed a Chinese place that did not seem too busy." He looked at the three for a consensus. A screech at the edge of a dog whistle sounded from in the bar. "Ooooooooh my god. Ooooooh my god." The four turned to see a tall, thin drag queen behind the bar grasping her breasts like in the clutches of a heart attack. She rushed over to the host podium "Oh my god V'Gina. Don't you know who this is." She fluttered her fingers at Chris. "This is Chris, the Chris from Jazzabel's in New York. You know the video Cliterella showed us yesterday." V'Gina inspected Chris, at first dubious, then took a step back. "I am sorry Chris that I did not recognize you. All the girls here are big fans of yours, but you don't do Jazzabel's often enough, but still, we wait anxiously for your next appearance there. I mean you are so talented and cute and sexy. O, my fuck me with the wooden spoon. I am just taken aback that you are here in Chicago. I mean not that you can't be here but..." "Don't mind her Chris. She has a motor mouth that only a dick will idle." Chris was an attractive shade of pink while Leandra was completely amused. "I'm Dragunda. Let me find you a table." Chris wanted to protest about the other reservations, but Leandra grabbed Chris's arm and followed. Most of the other diners stared at the celebrity trying to figure out who they were. The meal was fun for everyone except Chris. A woman in her fifties with grey hair done in a tight perm asked for an autograph for her grandson, who is up on all the latest fades, though it was obvious she had no clue who Chris was. Chris signed a napkin to Baby Boy. Leandra insisted on signing one too since she was a famous model. Leandra camped it up at Chris's expense. The burgers were first rate and the drag queens working insisted on joining Chris's group as they were free to discuss drag, particularly Jazzabel, why Chris did not perform more. They beg him to return to do a show with them. Chris politely said he was in town on business and did not know the schedule. Leandra, of course, was most helpful stating that Tuesday after the post-show dinner everyone was free. She was sure most of their group would love to come and see the show. She tapped a quick message on her phone. "See," she showed Chris and V'Gina the answer. "Both Cynthia and Stu think it is great publicity." Her coup made Chris capitulate. Leandra looked at her phone. "Oh, even better, Dorn and Gorky want to meet with the ladies to do some set and costume design." That elicited screeches from Dragunda and Cliterella. Give me your number, and they will contact you."
"You are one evil bitch," Chris glared at Leandra as they were leaving the restaurant. "Thank you Chris, for seeing my true talent." She pulled Chris for a cheek kiss. "And never forget it."
Back at the hotel, Boyd accompanied Chris to his room. "Mind if I spent the night with you. I don't like sleeping alone in strange places, and our lives have been so chaotic the last few weeks, it would be nice to chat." Chris was hesitant. "Nothing like after St. Croix, just friends." Chris said he would be a most welcome to spend the night. "Since we have no commitments until 9:30 in the morning, I'll order a bottle of wine." Boyd and Chris talked until well past midnight , mostly about Chaz and Boyd. How Lizette will not pressure Boyd to marry her and that the baby is not his. It was a conversation with many tears and hugs between Lizette and Boyd. Boyd said that she did it because she knew that her baby would have a good father. Then Boyd gushed how Chaz and Boyd were soul bound and talked about marriage and children and a house and a dog. Chris listened, happy for both. He casually mentioned that since Boyd is the father of record, he should raise the child with Chaz although the timing was tight. Boyd snuggled next to Chris to sleep well with that thought in his mind.
The room was crowded as Chris walked into the Slacker's presentation. "There's my big brother." Britney grabbed Chris as he entered the conference room. "So glad to see you. You are looking good." She kissed him on the cheek and pulled him to an empty chair next to her at the table. "So much to tell you. Can we go to supper tonight?" Chris agreed. "I'm going to bring a friend too, if that is fine with you?" "To meet a boyfriend?" Chris teased back. Britney only grinned. "Hey handsome." Steph, Britney's classmate, pulled Chris into a kiss with tongue while running a hand up the thigh. "Want to find a dark closet and get it on. I'm eighteen now and legal." After Chris recovered from his initial shock, he wanted to laugh, but politely told Steph that he was taken and committed." Steph frowned but it was overly dramatic and both laughed. "Attention," Cynthia wrapped the table with her ringed fingers. "I want to welcome everyone to the introduction of Slacker's new line of young adult apparel." modest applause. "The test marketing has been beyond sensational. A buzz is already created thanks to the young men and women who wore the new clothing line at local high schools. Your suggestions have made the designs stronger. Would these young people stand?" Britney, Stephan, Jessica, the Jansen twins, and Ha Nguyen (all had been on the trip to New York) stood along with seven other high schoolers. The appreciative applause caused several of the teens to blush. "Thank you," Chris's sister said. "It was our pleasure to test the new line of clothes. I cannot speak for the others but my reputation as a fashionista when stratospheric. I am now the girl to ask about fashion trends." Britney gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I have had more offers to parties and dates than I have had in the last four years." She giggled to herself. "The clothes are not only comfortable and stylish; they make me feel sexy and confident." Chris glared at his sister when she said "sexy". "I am woman. Hear me roar." The crowd laughed at her last statement. "I am very pleased by the response, and you developing into an independent woman." Cordelia smiled at Britney and then continued. "But clothes do not make the woman...or man. They will not make you what you are not, but they can help find the core of yourself." Cordelia looked at all the eager young faces and smiled. "A friend, I treasure dearly, taught me that strength comes from self-worth and not what you wear or how you look. We wear clothes to project who we are or how we want to be perceived, but it does not change our insides. I love the fashion industry; I've been in it for almost twenty-five years. Stu and Cynthia will agree with me that it can be cruel and shallow, but so are many workplaces because it is the people who make the job. If we respect people for whom they are...Shit, I'm rambling. I am just happy that you like the designs and are willing to wear them." "Thank you. Ms. Duncan," Stu gave Cordelia a broad smile, "Cordelia, for reminding us what is important." Stu looked at each face, pride in his eyes. "Now onto more mundane topics. After lunch we will have a final fitting and a rehearsal. Tonight, you are free. Tomorrow morning is hair and make-up, a light lunch and the show at 2:00 PM. After the show ends about 4:00, you need to mingle with the attendees and any members of the press. We have reservations for supper at McDonald's." That earned Stu hisses. "No, just joking, we will eat taco from Taqueria and pizza from Piquads." That produced titters from the high school group since it was beyond their usual means. "After dinner, we have an invitation to Hamburger Mary's for libations, soda for those under 21, and entertainment. We will provide the clothing for the evening, courtesy of Slackers, because it is great marketing." The meeting ended and people wandered off to home or other engagements.
"Chris, diner is on me," Britney said as she shoved him into a cab. Chris tried to protest, but Britney said that Slacker's paid her well, and she wanted to thank Chris. "And, Chris," Britney sternly looked at Chris, "be on your best behavior with my guest." Chris grinned at the thought of his sister having a beau. "I will play nice." The taxi stopped in front of Sepia, a bland brick storefront. But the insides were casually elegant with large chandeliers over more utilitarian dark wood tables. It was not a place for romance but to meet with friends. Britney led Chris over to a table where another woman sat. The woman turned at Britney's voice. "Mom?" Both froze, uncertain on how to proceed. Both with emotions of fear, regret, longing. Both wanted to hug the other but were afraid of the rejection. Both overwhelmed by the pain of the past. Chris broke first and embraced his mother, like he was hugging a cobra. He then sat across from her, the woman who allowed his father to toss him out like trash. They looked at each other uncertain on how to start. "That went better than expected." Britney said as she sat between the two. "Neither of you ran for the door or started swinging. We are off to an amicable start." "Britney," Helen Wentworth's voice was tight and stern, "this is not the way to approach the issue of your sister, Chris." "Britney, I appreciate the effort but any reconciliation must be from both sides. It must come from respect for each other. How can I respect a woman who does not respect me." Britney felt like she was destroyed, by this meeting, what she had gained with her brother. But she also knew that her mother was hurting with the absence of Chris and was lost in guilt and depression. "Excuse me," Chris stood and started to leave, Helen grabbed Chris's wrist, "Please stay,...son." Chris looked at his mother flabbergasted. His mother's eyes were pleading. "I just don't know how to take all this." She waved a hand down Chris's torso. "All I see is the little girl I gave birth to and totally ignored how unhappy that little girl was." Chris sat back down. "This is very hard for me Chris because I have always loved you, still do, and I failed you. I knew from when you were a toddler that you were different, but different scares me. Then the suicide attempt and the final confrontation, I was torn by what I saw as your intransigence and your father's pigheadedness. We were convinced, your father and me, that after a night or two in the cold, you would crawl back and things would return to normal. You never did return. I didn't know what happened to you. I feared you were dead." Chris handed his mother his napkin to dry her tears. "Do you know how it feels to not know if your child is alive?" "Mom, I want you to know that I have forgiven you and Dad for that night. I did understand why. But you also need to know that it was impossible to return. I would not have survived, so I ran. Life on the street was better than being forced to be something I loathed. You must understand that what you see now is who I am. I have not had the all the surgery but it will be by the end of the year. However, the surgery is to only make my body match my soul. I am surrounded by people who love me for who I am. I am happy with my life. So be happy for me." Chris snatched Britney's napkin to wipe his eyes. "Yes, Chris, I am very happy for you and very proud of the man you have become. Just be patient as I reset my brain." The waiter politely interrupted once he saw the tears abate. "Drink orders?" Chris ordered white wine, the waiter hesitated by replied, "Yes, sir, and you ma'am?" Helen had wine too; Britney had a coke. The waiter returned with the drinks and food was ordered: sea bass for Helen, smoked duck breast for Chris, and Britney ordered the carnaroli risotto. Chris doubted that she knew it was a vegetarian dish. The conversation flowed over the fine food. They laughed, talked about family and friends. Chris told his mother about the dinner party and the open house and how he appreciated the experiences he received from her parties. He said he was playing piano again. She said she had seen the video and was impressed that he did so well after not playing for many years. Chris finally asked about the one topic carefully avoided. "How is Dad?" "His health is good but he has high blood pressure from work and an enlarged prostate from age. But he is the same stubborn man that I married. You are still a touchy subject." Helen laughed to herself. "When you slugged that man for making advances--it made local news here--we recognized you. Your Dad was so proud of you that he yelled `That's my boy.' He realized what he said and went to the garage to work. Deep down he is very proud of you but feels guilty that he made you want to be a boy. He always wanted a son. When you were born he was disappointed, but then you liked the same things he did: baseball, the Cubs, camping and fishing: the things you would do with a son. Once you hit puberty and you started developing breasts, it was like his son died and was replaced by a girl. But you still wanted to be the son and not the daughter. It totally confused him. Then the psychiatrist basically said it was his fault because he didn't treat you like a girl growing up. He feels so guilty." "The psychiatrist is a quack. She knew nothing about gender dysphoria. She was harmful to me and to him and the whole family." Chris held his mother's hand from across the table. "He shouldn't feel guilty. The self-defense lessons have paid off. He gave me all the skills I need to be successful in life, as have you." "Thank you Chris," Helen smiled at Chris. "We did raise one remarkable man." She patted Chris's hand. "We would have raised one horrible daughter." That affirmation healed many wounds and opened a future with his parents. "Thank you Mom for saying that." Chris took Britney's hand and placed it with his mother's and his. "And thanks, Brit for making this happen." The waiter dropped off the check, which Britney proudly paid with her new card. The waiter, before he left the table asked. "Are you Chris from Jazzabel's?" Chris said yes. "Rumor has it that you are entertaining at Hamburger Mary's tomorrow." Chris affirmed it. "I need to work tomorrow night but I will try to attend. You and Jazzabel are amazing together. It is so much fun watching you trying to outwit each other." Chris gave his thanks for the kind words Chris, his mother and Britney walked to the street, hugged and kissed as they entered separate cabs.
Helga, the COO at the now Dreamweavers, arranged for the fashion show at an empty warehouse. It was the first fashion show Chris attended; he was astounded by the organized chaos, the circus atmosphere, and the diverse crowd. Since many people under the age of twenty-one would attend, the usual champagne was replaced by sprinkling juices, and the usual petite hor d'oeuvres became sliders, nachos and tacos. A band was hired to play pop and classic rock. Chris was nervous, but channeled the nerves in helping the high schoolers who had no experience. A large contingent of press and photographers lined the edge of the runway. Dorn had several video cameras set up at strategic places at ground, eye and overview levels. The runway backdrop was polymorphic shapes of angled glass and mirrors where different colored lights could be played on either side of a massive TV screen that would show the models at various angles from Dorn's cameras. Back stage, Miriam, the wardrobe mistress from Dreamweavers, double checked the racks of clothes for the order of use and the person to be wearing the items. One student canceled because of illness so a substitute was selected that matched her size; quick stitching, tailored the wardrobe. The biggest concern for some was the small space to change and the both genders were changing in an area without dividers. Leandra's ribald comments about dicks and tits being no less disgusting than shared spit in a French kiss soon eased any concerns. Chris liked Leandra more and needed to be closer to her as a friend. He had few lesbian friends. Cynthia clapped her hands to gain attention. "Kids, we are about to start. For many of you this is the first time doing a show or being in front of the public. It is acceptable to be nervous and afraid, but there is nothing you can do that will fuck things up except upchuck on Mrs. Granitas, the fashion editor for the Chicago paper." That earned a few nervous laughs. "If you trip and fall, which Tyra Banks had done it, stand up proud, bow, and march on. The important thing is to show attitude and have fun." Cynthia looked around at the eager faces. "Line up and strut your stuff." The music stopped and Cordelia Duncan strode out center of the runway. "I would like to welcome everyone to Slacker's preview of our new line of young adult wear. We decided to break with the tradition of a New York premier because our designs are not traditional. We take denim and fabrics in a new direction. We chose Chicago because it is heartland America where great fashion sense aligns with common sense. We also chose Chicago because Chris Wentworth, one of Dreamweavers most respected models, who is from Chicago, suggested it. His sister's high school visited New York, and I was blown away by their suggestions. We ran a test market here in Chicago at several of the high schools. The response and the reception were more than anticipated. Tonight, most of our young models are from the test market and from your schools. While they are not professionals, they have that Chicago attitude." Whoops and hollers came from the packed room. The music started "Marching to Mars". Dylan strutted out, cocky attitude in board shorts and a tank that hung his weightlifter physique like paint. The crowd oohed as the metallic threaded shorts caught the light and his muscled thighs. The tank top was an off pale pink with his high school mascot woven in like a hologram. The show was off to a great start. Jessica followed, her olive skin contrasting with a pale green tennis skirt and matching sheer gauze top, which she removed to reveal a glossy Lycra orange bikini. Two more followed with swim wear. Then came the denim: blends of silk, hemp, and flax, blue jeans dyed over green, red and yellow, textured jeans, and patchwork jeans. All featured side pockets for holding cell phones, some had slant flies, exposed buttons, oversized zipper pulls. Tops were silk brocades, cotton textured weaves, bold graphic designs and colors. Both Cordelia and Cynthia were bubbling with delight at the reception. When Steph entered doing backflips down the runway, which was not part of the plan, the audience stood, roaring approval. His bow showed off his fine ass in the stretch skinny jeans. Hannah and Hunter, the twins, entered together in dress casual. Doug, a short Hispanic lad of 16, wearing a tight long sleeve dress shirt with buttons running down the left side and up to the left shoulder, instead of the usual, blow kisses to everyone, stopped center runway and unbuttoned the shirt until his left pierced left nipple showed. He covered it modestly with his right hand and ran from the stage. Steph gave him a more than friendly kiss after his exit. Chris was last wearing braided leather pants and a leather vest with vertical silver embossed panels. His walk was confident and sensuous, ballerino meets biker. Without swagger, he commanded attention. He was a presence without ego. After he left the runway all the models with Cordelia took their bows. The models then dispersed to meet and greet, talk to attending family and friends, and pose for pictures for the press. By 4:30 all the guests had left. Cynthia gathered everyone around. "I want to thank everyone for performing above and beyond our expectations. You can be very proud of yourselves for your work. You were the most professional people I have ever worked with." Cordelia followed, "This is the best fashion show I have ever participated in. I have been doing this for longer than any of you have been alive. Several merchandisers have approached me about carrying our clothes. This is thanks to you. To show my appreciation, please keep any clothes you wore today, and Chris is passing out envelopes as a bonus for your extraordinary work. Food and drinks should be here shortly for our traditional after show party. Then later, if you can, you are invited to Hamburger Mary for a show featuring our very own Chris." Cordelia heard one of the teens yell "O shit, it's a thousand dollars--college books are paid for." The food arrived: pizza, tacos, Thai, and burgers. Chris enjoyed the ravenous teenagers at the food bar although he was melancholic that he missed his high school days. He grinned at his self-pity and looked at where he was now. The pain was worth it. Cordelia plinked down next to Chris. "You're looking pensive." "Just watching the kids eat and started to feel sorry for what I missed, but then I realized what I have." Cordelia placed her hand on top of Chris's, watching the teenagers laugh and horse around. "Chris, you are only a year or two older than many of these but you are decades wiser. You know who you are and who you want to be. That is a rare gift. You are a rare person." Chris leaned over and pecked Cordelia on the cheek. "I had dinner last night with my sister and my mother." Cordelia studied Chris for a response. "It went very well. She is starting to understand, and, while not full support, she is facing the right direction." "That is a good start." Cordelia looked at her hands, "When I lost Zack because I wanted to support my husband, I felt ripped in two by my divided loyalties. I had made a vow to my husband, and I felt that was more important than my children. I know that sounds wrong, but that is the way I was raised to always support your man. I've come to realize that the marriage vow is two ways. My husband, ex-husband, broke the vow when he sexually abused our son. His actions did not deserve my support." Cordelia smiled at Chris like she was Buddha under the banyan tree. "Give your mother time." "Sorry," Dorn said standing in front of Chris, "to interrupt Chris, but we need to go.
Hamburger Mary was crowded when Chris and Dorn arrived. V'Gina met Chris at the door. "Word of mouth has this place almost at capacity." Chris and Dorn were led to the back of the restaurant where the small stage was. On it, in the center was a battered upright piano. Chris slid across the bench and did an arpeggio across the keys. While the piano was tuned, the sound was honky-tonk. Chris revised his playlist. "Ain't you the sexiest thing on two legs," Cliterella purred in Chris's ear. "Gets me wet in all the wrong places." Chris blushed. He was still dressed from the show in the braided leather jean, leather vest with no shirt, hair spiked with pink and green tips, and heavy eye makeup: shove him in a dress, and he could do drag. "Sorry, didn't change from the fashion show." "I'm not sorry, sexy. It is so David Bowie. It is a hot, hot look for you." Cliterella ran one long red fingernail along his jowl. "Need you back stage to finalize the show." Back stage was a small converted storage room with a rack of clothes on one side, a dressing table and three full-length wall mirrors like you would find at Walmart or Target. The room was crowded with Dorn, Chris and four drag queens in various stages of undress, distress, and works in progress. Chris was introduced to Dragunda, a pale skinned, jet-black haired boy of maybe twenty-two wearing a short, short red sequined dress that was obviously made for him. The other queens gushed over the dress to give moral support and boast the ego of a lad about to melt down: his hands were fluttering so rapidly that he was about to hoover. "Get ready girls," Cliterella clapped her hands. "It's showtime." Dragunda was about to pass out from nerves ."Sweets," Chris pulled the boy into a close hug. "Normally people say to go out there and be yourself, I want you to go out there and be a drag queen on steroids. Go big, bold and sassy." Dragunda gave Chris a kiss on the mouth. "And try for a new stage name--Sassy Lips." Princess Pure Bottom cornered Chris as soon as Dragunda left to find a boa. She was the stereotype of a bear: around 40, over 6' 4", 275 pounds, hairy, full beard and a velvet baritone voice. He was the only one that would sing live, the other queens would lip sync. He worked full time as a nurse practitioner and did drag to explore the relationship of male and female images. Drag was a philosophical rather than an emotional lifestyle. So, he wore a full-length, red sequined, spaghetti strap gown, with a plunging neckline, slit up both sides to the thigh. On his head was a two-foot-high blond wig with an oversized red hibiscus; a stark contrast to his black beard and extensive body hair. To finish the ensemble, he carried a red lace fan, which he worked as coyly as a geisha. They planned three songs and two encores. He would be the last to perform. V'Gina took the stage, looking stunning in a short green full-skirted dress that emphasized her shapely legs and dark skin. The place was packed with a TV on the street for the overflow crowd. The noise in the room was loud. "All you fuckers quiet," V'Gina yelled into the mic. The crowd quieted, moistly. "Thank you. You see that big man in the back." She pointed to a giant standing by the door. "He will kick your ass out of here if you get rowdy. And I'll have you know that he has on size 15 steel toed boots, so you will know your ass has been booted." Several people laughed nervously. "We have a very special show for you tonight with donations going to AIDs programs in the Chicago area. Donations will be matched by Slackers and Dreamweavers." Enthusiastic applause. "Dreamweavers has also provided assistance in designing our gowns tonight and set. Could Ms. Duncan of Slackers and Mr. Ringer from Dreamweavers stand." Cordelia and Stu stood and gave a curt bow and sat. "We also have a special guest tonight, Chris Wentworth; a local boy who went to the Big Apple and became a celebrity. Not only is he a hot fashion model, a talented entertainer--some of you may have seen the videos from Jazzabel's nightclub, but he is also one of the nicest people I have ever met. He will be performing with our motley crew. On with the show. First to perform will be Cliterella." She entered in a slinky black satin dress, black opera gloves and a white rose. She received enthusiastic applause, particularly from a small group of college boys near the back. She lip sang two songs: "La Vie En Rose" and "Applause". She worked both songs in like she was milking a cow: a firm grip on the lyrics and rhythmic tugs as she slinked across the stage and as a finally draped herself across the piano. Chris loved watching her work the stage and the audience. Although she did not sing; she entertained with all her heart. And the audience loved her. "Thank you so much," she said with a breathy huskiness that was seductive like Laureen Bacall. "I appreciate your applause, but even more I want your dollars for a great cause." She looked at the group of college boys. "And you Jack, you and your pod need to cough up a wad if you want me to take your wad tonight." The guy, who might have been Jack, turned a deep red and waved a twenty. "Nice start stud, but that will only get your zipper down." The crowd roared in laughter. The guy stood and bowed and pulled out another twenty. "Saving the rest for the real talent." He shot back. Cliterella puckered her lips into an "O". "And these lips and mouth are not a real talent? Think I need to find a new agent." She blew Jack a kiss. "Sorry babe, you know those lips, that mouth, that all of you is all I need because I love you." A few of the guys he was with gave a very audible "Aah". "Love you too, but on with the show." She blew Jack a kiss. "I am very proud to introduce Chris Wentworth, who is only in town for a few days. He stopped in last night for a burger and agreed to perform tonight with us. It was him that suggested that tonight be a fund raiser for AIDs, so the cover, which we never usually charge, will go toward this charity as well as your donations. Here is the real talent tonight, Chris." "Thank you Cliterella. It is a great pleasure to be here tonight for a great cause. As for real talent, the ladies here have it in tons. They take their art seriously to give you the best entertainment. I am here to support them in their art." Chris sat at the piano and played two songs: "You Make Me Feel Mighty Real" and "It's Raining Men", which had the audience singing along. He then introduced Dragunda. Dragunda entered in a black leather bustier, black fishnet stockings, red patent leather six inch stilettos, and a black feather boa. She wore little makeup except for black eye liner which made her electric blue eyes pop. What stuck Chris the most was there was no wig, just natural black hair cut short. She walked confidently to center stage, struck a pose and the music started. She looked at the audience and signaled for the music to stop. "I was going to lip sync We Are the Champions. It is classic gay empowerment, telling us to be who we are. But being a lip sync artist is not who I want to be. Now that doesn't mean that I am not going to sing. Frankly my singing voice sounds like an alternator that is on the fritz." Chris hit a minor chord in the lower registers of the piano. "Growing up I always wanted to be a drag queen. I have a twin sister, and I always wanted to do what she did. At four she was given a Barbie for her birthday. I was given a GI Joe." She paused and looked at the audience. "Did you know that Joe kicks ass in Barbie's pink capri pants?...My parents, loving and supportive, thought it was a phase......Were they wrong." She put a hand on her hip and thrust it sideways--more laughs. She became more confident and moved around the stage, looking at each person. "My mother's lipstick would disappear, eye shadow vanished, and panty hose went into the same black hole as did my older brother's gym socks." She turned conspiratorially to the audience and stage whispered "Gym socks make great boobs." The audience roared. "......My mother found them in my bedside dresser....It's just a phase." Chris played a little tune. "At twelve, I did my first drag show for school show-and-tell...It did not go over well" She rolled her eyes and slowly shook her head. "Not well at all." The audience was laughing. "My parents and I met with the school psychologist. She was convinced that I wanted to be a girl." She reached down and grabbed her crotch. "I have nothing against women and vaginas, but I am more than happy with the package I have. And I have a bevy of men to back me up. I tried to explain to the narrow-minded bitch that women just have prettier clothes than men....Men's clothes are either utilitarian or uncomfortable. I prefer silk to worsted wool against my skin....She argued that men wearing women's' clothes is unnatural against the laws of God." She grinned at the audience. "I politely agreed with her and undressed. To say she was horrified to see a scrawny prepubescent boy's cock dangling in front of her would be an understatement. She stood, veins popping out of her neck that I have only seen in professional wrestlers, demanding that I dress immediately or she would have me arrested for indecent exposure...I looked up to her in complete innocence and in an angelic voice said. I only did what you said I should do. God made Adam and Eve naked. Clothes are a creation of man...." She paused, sighed in disbelief. "She stormed out of the room. I dressed and my parents took me home....It was just a phase." Chris played his five note tune and Dragunda continued. "Senior year I met with the school's guidance counsel to discuss my after-graduation plans--Mr. Stick-up-his-ass--I changed his name to protect the guilty--asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I had good grades and had several options for college. I replied that I wanted to be a drag artist, note not queen. He remained composed, holding a pencil in the middle, tapping both ends on the desk....'You are really serious about being a drag queen.' His smile morphed to a pencil line when I did not smile back. artist. it's not a joke.'...I knew he was upset and uncomfortable because he would not look at me, which was fine with me because he wore this ratty toupee that could have passed as well used floor mop. Once he was convinced that I was serious, he graciously pointed out that I could not make a living as a drag queen, that it was not a true occupation, and that it was a perversion of what a man should be...I was tempted to whip out my manhood and show him that it was not a perversion; it is no longer a twelve-year-old dicklette. I have pubes now...Instead, keeping my eyes on him, I casually rubbed the front of my jeans...Married, uptight men in white shirts and strangling black ties have no sense of humor. He stood up saying that I would end up in the gutter dead of an overdose or disease. As he ushered me to the door I said, Sir, I appreciate your candor, so I will do the same. I find your advice not motivational, which is your job. You need to encourage dreams, not bash them. Drag Queens can be successful, look at Ru Paul. I am going to college to get a business degree and a fine arts degree, while you will be stuck here telling students, whom you hate, that they are failures. You are the failure." The comments elicited applause from the crowd. Once there was quiet, she continued. "You heard the phrase Don't let the door hit you on the way out". I took heed of the advice and high tailed if from his office before he slammed the door so hard that his name plate fell off the door." She smiled at the audience. "It now sits on my desk as motivation to follow my dreams. It is not a phase." She looked at Chris who played one verse "We Are the Champions of the World". The audience was on their feet applauding. Dragunda took a hesitant bow unsure of the cause of the applause. Chris whispered in her ear, "You are Sassy Lips. You were phenomenal." Once the applause died, Chris played and sang one song before introducing Princess Pure Bottom, who did five songs: three with Chris only playing and two with Chris as a duet. The last was "Danny Boy", which Princess dedicated to a close friend who died of AIDS. Chris added the verses for "I Will Be True" between the first and second verse, which was written for the funeral of Princess Diana.
Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side. The summer's gone, and all the roses falling, It's you, It's you must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,-- Oh, Danny boy, O Danny boy, I love you so! (Frederic Weatherly, 1910)
I would be true, for there are those that trust me. I would be pure, for there are those that care. I would be strong, for there is much to suffer. I would be brave, for there is much to dare. I would be friend of all, the foe, the friendless. I would be giving, and forget the gift, I would be humble, for I know my weakness, I would look up, and laugh, and love and live. (Howard Walter, 1907)
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying, If I am dead, as dead I well may be, Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say an Avè there for me. And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be, For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!
There are times that transcend time, when the world stills to a point of silence and where the essence of all that is love condensates into a single drop. So it was for that crowd in that small eatery. For a brief instant love and loss and life were in balance. After the applause ended, V'Gina bounced up onto the stage. "Would all the artists take a final bow. I want to especially thank Chris for his time tonight. It was a memorable event that we will do annually. The final tally for donations is not completed but our unofficial count is over $25,000 dollars, with the matching donations from Slackers and Dreamweavers, we will have raised over $75,000 dollars. I want to thank each of you for your generosity." Cliterella and Dragunda joined V'Gina, Princess Pure Bottom and Chris for a final bow. Everyone was on their feet clapping. As Chris rose from the bow he spotted his sister and mother, who was clapping furiously while wiping tears from her eyes. Chris blew her a kiss. Chris and the four drag queens retired to the dressing room to hugs and kisses and sighs of relief. A man stopped Chris. "I'm Felix Moser. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the show tonight. I saw you in New York at Jazzabel's and one of my colleagues spoke with you--Natalie Wong from Rising Star." Chris took a step back from the man and gave him a critical look. He was about 35, Chris's height, blonde, in designer jeans and graphic T-shirt with the anime character Gilgamesh. "You did a nice job putting her in her place. I want to apologize for her behavior. She is a very talented and driven woman, who feels that because she is a woman in a man's world she needs to push harder. Unfortunately, that is often needed. She just needs to know when it is a liability and to be her more tempered self." Chris had almost forgotten about the incident but graciously accepted the apology. "We still want you to do work for us. We think you have amazing potential. I am here this week to talk to your bosses about how we might utilize your talent. Seeing you tonight confirmed my admiration and our desire for working with you." Dragunda broke into the conversation. "Chris, I want to personally thank you for the advice about playing it large. I hope you didn't mind me going off script." "Sassy Lips, because that is what you are and the monologue you did was perfect. It was you." She gave Chris a kiss on the lips and turned to leave. "Sassy?" Felix put a hand on her shoulder. "I thought your monologue was hysterical. I would like to see your whole routine." Sassy glared at the man and gently took his hand off her shoulder. "Hon, touching the merchandise is for friends. And I don't have a routine." Felix did not let her hand go. "You mean that was ad lib?" "Straight from the head to the lips." Her eyes raked over Felix's body like it might have cooties. "Damn, I am very impressed. You have great timing and know how to engage the crowd. You may not have noticed, but you had them wrapped around your finger. You have the presence and self-depreciation of Phyllis Diller or Joan Rivers." "Dear, my bod is better than either, so if you thought that was a compliment, you need to go back to school and learn how to play marbles." "Sorry," Felix stammered flustered, "I meant you have great comedic sense. You are a natural." He studied Sassy as she threw attitude at him. "If that look is your attempt to get laid, I know of a farm with a few sows that have little taste." Felix took a step back and guffawed. "Yup, you are perfect. I have a proposition for you." Sassy scowled. "Not that kind. A job in Vegas. My clients are developing a burlesque revue featuring drag artists and female impersonators. I think you may be perfect as the MC. I'm thinking of you as a dominatrix, leather, whips, and kick ass boots." Sassy was humming with excitement and hesitancy; was he for real? "Here is my card. Can we do lunch tomorrow." Sassy said after his classes were over at 1:00. A time was set and Felix left. Sassy turned to Chris, "What do you think? Is he for real?" Before Chris could offer an opinion Stu and Helga crowded backstage. "You were fabulous Chris, but then I am stating the obvious." Helga gave Chris a hug and turned to Sassy. "You have talent kid. We talked to Felix Moser, so should you. And Chris, we will talk tomorrow about some ideas Rising Star has for you." Stu came over and hugged Chris. "Did well boy; I'm so proud of you. But we need to run. I need a good eight hours of sleep." Stu and Helga left. "Guys," Princess Pure Bottom came over, now dressed in jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. "We're having a nightcap at the bar. We all deserve one." It was two before Boyd tucked a fuzzy headed Chris into bed.
Morning came too early for the 8:30 meeting in Dorn's studio. It was the largest space to hold everyone. Chris sucked a coffee, black; his third and his fourth pastry, and was still not at par. "We will not be long because we know there is the flight back to New York at 1:17." Stu said, gathering everyone's attention. "I want to thank everyone for a very successful launch of the new Slackers line. The show received favorable reviews in the local media and is being picked up in other markets. Also, a special thanks to Chris Wentworth for the very successful fundraiser last night. I was told this morning that a total of $123,000 was raised." A loud round of applause and hoots filled the room; Chris was forced to give a quick bow. "That Slackers and Dreamweavers were listed as sponsors also helped with the launch. I hope everyone saw the clip on WGN, which is nationally syndicated. I am told by the station that donations are arriving at their offices. Although it is good for our reputation to be associated with worthwhile charities, it is better for our souls to give back to the communities that support us." Applause. "Now a word from Ms. Duncan. "Thank you Mr. Ringer, Stu, I am in awe of what happened here in Chicago. It went far beyond any expectations, not only did we have a successful launch but also a successful contribution to the community. As you may know, I just recently took over running my company. I had left it in the hands of my ex-husband. His direction was profit over people. That is wrong because it is the people who make a company strong. My association with Silent Models and now Dreamweavers reinforces my conviction that not all the fashion industry is shallow and narcissistic. We can be glamorous, trend setting, and divas without being petty and vicious. I look forward to working with all of you again." She sat down next to her son Zack to loud applause.
At the terminal, waiting for the plane, Chris tried to sleep, but was jarred awake by passing well-wishers, who thanked him for the benefit. On the plane, a twink steward gave Chris a pillow and blanket. Chris slept.