Lives Intertwined (Chapter 3) By the WhiteWolf
Now begins the third chapter and our third character. I'm glad some have you been faithful and remained reading this story. I'll try not to disappoint. Don't be deterred by the first few lines it will make more sense further in.
She waited patiently as she listened for her cue.
"This club is not very organized," Robyn thought. They were behind schedule and most people backstage didn't seem to know what they were doing. But she said nothing.
The announcer's voice interrupted her thoughts as he spoke to the crowd, "Ladies and gentleman, we have new act here for you at The Tiger Cage." He paused and took a deep breath. "It's the sheila from dahn unda: Robyn" he tried his best Australian accent.
Robyn is a drag queen. Robyn is her female stage name. His actual name is Greg. He never thought that he should use his name or a modification of his name for his female persona. Greg was the name given to him when he had no choice. When he chose his own name he thought it should be something he's always wanted, and not forced into one by any means.
Robyn winced at the terrible attempt at the accent just before she walked up on stage. Robyn is part Australian but primarily grew up in America so her accent never stayed. She still hates it when people use stereotypes with her. She put it out of her mind and began to dance and lip synch to her song. She realized that not many people were in the club, much less watching her. She noticed a man sitting at bar watching half-heartedly, a table full of drunk Japanese men, all smiling and having a constant look of amazement, one man in a suit was sitting close to the stage, and another man passed out on the table in a dimly light corner. Although The Tiger Cage usually is a respectable establishment today just seemed oddly off.
The song was almost over and she had only gotten one tip. It was from the suit in the front row. She proceeded to go back stage without hesitation. This had to have been one of the worst gigs she had. She sat down in her chair so she could begin her transformation back into Greg. She pulled the bill from her clothes and noticed it was a hundred-dollar bill. Normally, this would flatter her, but this felt creepy in some sense. As she took off her wig she just let the bill stay there afraid to even touch it. He was about ready to leave as his bag was packed and his make-up case all locked up and he looked at the bill one last time. It was stuffed into his pocket and he walked out the door. The bar had not increased nor decreased in the number of customers. The suit was still sitting there, but hadn't noticed Greg.
He walked up to him and said "Thanks, but no thanks." Greg placed the bill on his table.
After a small pause the man looked at Greg. "It was only a tip," he called out to him but Greg walked on and then out the door. Another man sitting at the bar watched the whole scene and started to chuckle.
Greg got into his car and felt a little better getting rid of the bill. It just didn't feel right to him.
"God, it's time for my real job," Greg spoke to himself emphasizing "real". It was as if this life wasn't bad enough, he has to get a real job to support himself. Before putting the car into drive he looked in the rear-view mirror. "Girl, what's become of you?" He was reminded of a line from a play he once saw. "Oh my queen; you know you've hit rock-bottom when even drag is a drag." Greg changed gears and proceeded to get on with life.
"My wife is acting strangely," Kevin spoke to Greg. Greg was always used to people (usually actors) telling him their problems while he applied makeup to their face. He always plays counselor to them.
"How so, Kevin?"
Kevin sighs and closes his eyes, "Well she's always coming home late and she never^Å you know^Å wants to^Å"
"We all mature adults. It's called "having sex", sweetie."
"Yeah, that," Kevin responds still avoiding the word, "I just think she might be having an affair."
Greg stops putting makeup on Kevin's face. He knew that Kevin wasn't the brightest bulb in the drawer, but he had looks going for him.
"Listen, hon, your wife is a working girl. You've told me this. It could be overtime she's putting in. As for the lack of sex you're getting^Å I can sympathize with her, but women aren't built like men. They are like sex camels." Greg paused forgetting one moment that Kevin wasn't going to get it. "They can go without sex for a while, unlike men who seem to have a dependency on it." Greg never considers thinking of himself one gender. So when he speaks he plays both sides.
"Are you sure," Kevin asks warily.
Greg taps him on the shoulder indicating he's finished with his makeup, "Kev, talk to her. Women like it when you listen to them. So tonight go home, sit down with her and ask her about her day. I'm sure you'll find out more about your wife than you think you already know."
Kevin gets up, feeling better, "Thanks, Greg." He walks away but stops and turns around,
"Do you want to be called Greg or Robyn? I'm never sure which to call you."
"Either is fine," Greg sighs as he sits down in his chair. Kevin walks away ready for his scene. "Cute, just not too bright." He opens her purse, pulls out an Italian chocolate and unwraps it. "Not that intelligence is a deciding factor in relationships." As he bit into the chocolate he distinctly tasted an orange cream.
Home. The one time he could find peace and be anybody he wanted to be. Greg could become Robyn, stay as Greg, or create a new girl with one of his many wigs and vast amount of make up. Feeling as though the day was quite a waste of time and being depressed, Greg decided it was time to try a new look. Greg took out a black wig, black nail polish, and new crimson lipstick. He picked up his makeup kit consisting of 22 shades of eye shadow and blush.
"Let's try to create a vamp-like Demi Moore, hm?" He put the wig off to the side on the Styrofoam head and opened her case. The first step was to apply foundation and translucent powder, then the fun really starts. The entire task takes between 30- 60 minutes depending on what kind of look Greg is going for. Although black eye shadow would seem like the next choice to go with, he decided against it. Greg made his skin a tone lighter, which gives him the contrast he was looking for. He used a light eye shadow color to give the illusion of the wide-awake look.
"Ooo, you're such a gothic girl." he smiled. After he had finished his makeup he took out a roll of duct tape.
Greg sighed. The reason for the tape was due to the fact this was the lifestyle he chose and also due to the clothing he was wearing. He tucked back his penis and applied duct tape so it stayed in place. He had become accustomed to it, and although it does cause a little discomfort it's usually forgotten after a couple minutes. Next came a pair of black lace panties and Greg had decided on going with ultra sheer flesh-colored hose. Black is always a popular choice but it was not always necessary. He had already shaved his legs, arms, chest, and just any other place he could see hair sprouting. Greg ran a hand along the front sides of his body making sure everything was flat. The hand felt smooth skin along the chest and belly, and down on the lace panties. Everything looked fine.
He looked in his closet. The best choice to keep with his gothic appearance would be the black skin-tight leather dress that comes down to just above the knee. The sides of the dress have small slits revealing just enough flesh to tantalize even the most virtuously moral man. He laid the dress on the bed and took out a small box, which he kept his silicone breasts forms in. Greg put on the dress carefully and he felt proud of himself for keeping his size 6 figure. He opened the box and slipped the breasts in place. He shuddered from the cold silicone, but soon he gets over the initial feel and they began to warm up quickly from his own body heat.
Next came the shoes. Greg opened the other side of the closet, which held an extensive amount of shoes. High heels, platforms, running shoes and boots were all lined up nicely. He picked up a pair of thigh high, 3 inch-heeled boots to complete the outfit. It was time to view himself. The mirror to the bathroom was affixed the door and was large enough to reflect his whole body.
Her wig came down to her shoulders. As she put it on he had a few strands hang in front just slightly over the left eye. She sat down at her makeup table to make sure her wig was on just right and give her face one more look. As she stared at herself she spoke, "You look fabulous, darling!" Greg never referred to himself as a "she" until he was finished including the wig. Robyn looked down at a piece of paper on the table. It was an invitation she received for a party. It was at 7 o'clock. It was only 5 and it would take an hour to get there. Now seemed like the time to waste away the minutes online.
Many minutes had passed while Robyn just flirted aimlessly. Unexpectedly, an IM appeared on her screen.
RichKid8: Sorry about the other day.
It took a while for Robyn to recall who was writing to her. Searching in her memory banks revealed it was the rude, yet seemingly interesting man she had chatted with briefly.
JR52: Yeah?
RichKid8: I was just kinda pissed off that day
JR52: It showed
RichKid8: Can I make it up to you somehow?
JR52: Well I have plans for the rest of the day
RichKid8: Really? maybe coffee sometime?
RichKid8: Lunch even?
JR52: You're moving awfully fast for this country girl.
The IM went dead silent for a moment.
JR52: Yeah, you heard me
RichKid8: Sorry, I just thought you were a guy.
JR52: When I want to be.
RichKid8: You're a crossdresser?
JR52: Please. I don't like to be considered a mere crossdresser or even a CD at all.
JR52: Drag queen is the term I use
The IM went silent again.
RichKid8: Sorry.
JR52: Oh well, I can see this is "upsetting" you, I suppose we were never meant to be.
Robyn clicked on the X on the IM closing it and signed off. She didn't care if RichKid was going to IM her back. She knew from her previous experience that he wouldn't have liked her sarcasm. Besides it was already 5:50 and it was time to get going.
Robyn got in her car noting her neighbors watching her. She knew that her illusion of a woman was flawless, but it was just her appearance that caught their attention. Without hesitation she pulled her car out of the lot and drove off.
The 1998 Camaro sped down Russell Road with definite intention. Robyn glanced ahead and noticed a man in black leather jacket standing by the road. The man hadn't noticed her until she slowed down. She rolled down the window.
"Need a lift," she smiled genuinely.
The man looked at Robyn, "Yes, I greatly appreciate this." He smiled as she invited him in. The man wore a pair of dark blue jeans, cowboy boots and a plain white shirt under his black jacket. He had a slight beard growing and he bared a slight resemblance to Shannon Hoon (the now-deceased singer of Blind Melon) He carried a small black case with him.
"Nick," the man offered his hand.
Robyn gently took his hand, "Mine is Robyn, dear." Nick took the hand gently and kissed it.
"It's a pleasure."
"All mine." Robyn pulled back onto the road and resumed driving. "Where are ya' headed?"
"Just a ride inside to town. I'm a neophyte here." The engine was all that could be heard for a few seconds. "I'm new to the town."
The two began to strike up a chat involving idle remarks. After a few moments of silence Nick looked at Robyn, "Am I correct in assuming you're a man."
Robyn sighed and said nothing at first, but eventually asked, "So what gave me away. It's the hands right? Or the nose. The nose is almost always a dead give-away."
"Well no," Nick stopped her, "It's this picture of you on the visor." Nick pointed to the picture. "When I first glanced at it I assumed it was a relative of some sort. After seeing many similarities between you and the picture I put 2 and 2 together."
Robyn looked over to Nick, "Before you say anything, I'm a drag queen."
"I had guessed, you don't look like a transvestite, a full-time dresser. Performing tonight?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
Nick flashed a smile and stared forward, "You'll pass very easily."
Robyn paused for a second or two and concurred, "Yes, I know."
TBC