Chapter 8 Raleigh
RALEIGH
Waking up to the scent of something sweet, sticky, and cinnamon-scented was one of the best feelings in the world, especially when I got to do it cuddled up against Murry, who still slept deeply after how exhausted we were when we crawled into bed last night.
We were used to entertaining people, from a distance, with a strict no-touch policy unless they were stuffing our G-strings.
Yesterday, we’d played, really played, with the other pets, touching, grooming, laughing, and nuzzling, and there had been no fear of inappropriate behavior from them or the handlers who’d come to check on them.
The best part was that I never got the sense that it was because Phoenix was watching over us.
Working with Mr. Dorian had started opening our eyes to a world beyond the one we’d been embroiled in since we were barely legal.
Hell, when we’d started dancing at Hot n’ Bothered, we hadn’t even been old enough to legally drink a beer, and let me tell you, no one tried to offer us one, either.
James had made sure to let the rest of the staff know we were underage and warned them that anyone slipping us anything would be fired on the spot.
When we finally had been old enough to drink, we discovered that beer was kind of disgusting and the buzz of hard liquor was disorienting and a bit scary too.
Yesterday, we’d seen people sipping wine and champagne, but there had been plenty of sparkling juice and mocktails on hand for us pets and the other non-alcohol drinkers in the room.
At the club, James kept bottled water and sparkling lemonade behind the bar for the dancers, since there was a strict no-drinking policy while we were on the clock.
No drugs either; that was another hard and fast rule.
He said it was so we were clear-headed while up on the stage and able to keep our reflexes sharp in case anyone tried to grab or yank one of us down off something.
When we’d told him about yesterday’s fashion show and the extra job we’d picked up, he’d rearranged our hours for us so we wouldn’t have to rush from the event to dance.
He’d also pulled us aside and quietly told us that if modeling turned into something we could support ourselves doing, we shouldn’t feel obligated to keep dancing for him.
“If you two find a way to make a better life for yourselves, you take it,” he said. “Don’t stick around until you’re bitter, jaded, and have lost your sense of self-worth like some of the folks around here.”
We knew who he was referring to. Some of them had even helped us find our footing when we’d first started dancing there. It was sad to see people we’d once admired become shells of themselves. It would have been even sadder to fall into that same trap ourselves.
Murry sighed and wiggled, sniffed, and let out an obscene moan when he caught a whiff of the same scents I’d awoken to.
“Smells like heaven.” He murmured, lips brushing my ear.
Somehow, he always managed to be the big spoon, even though I was bigger. With a leg thrown over my hips and his arms wrapped around me, he clung like a warm, softly snoring backpack.
Or a koala.
Out of all the gear he’d worn yesterday, that had been my favorite to see him in.
A soft rapping on the door preceded the opening of it and Dorian’s voice, low and gentle. “Are you guys awake?”
“Mmm hmm,” Murry muttered. “Do I smell cinnamon?”
“You sure do. I made French toast with simmered peaches and whipped cream,” he replied. “Do you think you can drag yourselves out of bed to come to the table, or would you like me to load up a tray so we can eat in here?”
Breakfast in bed sounded amazing, but I had to piss, so I was going to have to get out of bed anyway; might as well go to the table so we wouldn’t create extra work for him.
“We’ll come to the table,” I replied, wiggling some, “just as soon as I have the chance to use the bathroom.”
Murry’s grumbled groan told me that he was in the same state, cozy but forced to leave the warmth by the call of nature.
“In that case, I’ll see you out there,” he replied. “Would you guys prefer milk, juice, or coffee this morning?”
“Milk, please,” Murry replied.
“Juice for me, please,” I said as Murry finally turned me loose.
“Pineapple, orange, or grape,” he asked. “Murry, would you like your milk plain or with chocolate or strawberry syrup added?”
“Strawberry, please,” Murry said, flopping on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes. “Can you make it really, really pink?”
Dorian chuckled, his features soft as he studied us. “I sure can.”
“I’d love some pineapple juice, please,” I said. “It’s my favorite.”
“Good to know, and I’ll be sure to keep strawberry syrup and pineapple juice stocked from here on out.”
“Thank you,” we said as he stepped back and allowed me to step past him to get to the bathroom.
A short time later we were seated at the kitchen table, digging into the scrumptious meal Mr. Dorian had made, the television on the counter was playing a rerun of an old season of RuPaul’s Drag Race.
“I love this show,” Murry said after he’d washed down a bite of food. “We’ve binged all the seasons, plus the all-stars.”
“Same,” Mr. Dorian replied. “I’m a huge fan of Project Runway too. That probably sounds so cliché, considering what I do, but fashion has always been in my blood.”
“How’d you get into modeling?” I asked.
“My folks,” he explained. “My mom was a model; in fact, the first spread I was in was one she did for an expecting mother’s magazine.
I was still in her belly, but she likes to tell the story about how I was already hamming it up.
In one of the photos from the shoot, you can see the outline of my foot pressing against her from the inside, like I wanted to make sure everyone could see me.
She’s got it hanging in the living room, right beside my sonogram photos.
My dad is a photographer; he took the photos for that shoot.
They met during a modeling call she took part in, fell in love, and started a family not long after. ”
“Do you have any siblings?” Murry asked. “Raleigh and I were both only children.”
“Two, actually,” Dorian explained. “I’ve got a sister who took after our old man and is a photographer up in Estes Park, Colorado.
She takes wildlife and landscape photos, mostly in the Rocky Mountains.
It blows me away when I see them. She’s captured photos of bears, elk, mule deer, pronghorns, big horned sheep, and so many birds and smaller critters that I’ve lost count. ”
“That’s so cool,” I said. “The only big animals we’ve ever seen were at the zoo.”
“Yeah, that’s the only place I’ve ever seen them either,” he explained. “She’s the nature lover in the family; I prefer sleeping indoors, with toilets that flush and beds that don’t involve an air pump to inflate them.”
Snickering, I speared a peach on top of a piece of French toast, swirled them through a frothy mix of syrup and whipped cream, and popped them in my mouth with a soft hum.
So good.
“I have a brother too,” Dorian explained. “He’s the reason I fell in love with Drag Race. He is a drag performer in New York; when I still lived in the city, I’d pop in and see him perform.”
“Have you ever designed anything for him?” Murry asked.
“For him, no, but we’ve worked together on a few projects he drew up and had an amazing time creating the looks,” Dorian explained. “He’ll be at the next show, so you’ll get to meet him.”
“Sweet!” Murry said.
“It’s cool that you guys are so close,” I said. “Is he older or younger than you?”
“Older. My sister is the youngest, and I got the privilege of being stuck in the middle.”
“Was it fun?” Murry asked. “When I was younger, I wished I had siblings. It was just me and my gram, but after she passed away I was glad I didn’t have any siblings, because there was no other family to take me in, so I landed in the system.”
“Is that where you two met?” he asked.
I nodded, scowling at my plate now, hoping he wouldn’t ask my story because it was way more complicated than Murry’s.
“I got the brother I always wanted and then some when we landed in the same group home together,” Murry said. “We’ve been together ever since.”
“I’m glad you guys were able to find one another.”
“So are we,” I replied, raising my head enough to flash a grin across the table at Murry.
“Slight subject change,” Mr. Dorian began, to which the inner voice in my head screamed thank you, “but did you guys have any plans for the rest of your day?”
“Not a one,” I replied. “We don’t have to be back at the club until Tuesday night.”
“In that case, would you be interested in spending the day with me?” he asked. “We could lie around watching movies, relax, order in a platter of mini lobster rolls, and veg out until we pass out. No work talk, just pure and utter laziness.”
“I’m so down,” Murry replied. “That’s exactly what we’d be doing at home, only now we’ll get to do it with you. In case we haven’t made it clear enough, with how busy we’ve been, we enjoy spending time with you.”
“It’ll be nice to just chill and enjoy lazing around together,” I added.
“Yes, it most certainly will,” he replied.