Chapter 28 Bella Bottoms
Matt clapped politely when Bella Bottoms came onstage, but, honestly, all he wanted was to drain his bladder and then drain his balls. He’d needed to pee for the last hour. He’d needed to fuck for the last five weeks. Both needs were causing him physical discomfort.
Not Matt. He didn’t understand drag, and, while he’d previously been aroused by Todd and the fishnet stockings and garter belt, he’d be fine if he never saw a guy in women’s attire again.
He just wanted to pee, get his buzz back, pick Mr. Right-Now and maybe Mr. Right-After, and get down to sucking and fucking.
Bella’s wig and heels were hearse black. Her blood-red dress dripped down her frame and pooled at her ankles. The skirt had a gaping slit for one leg.
Bella took the microphone off its stand and waited for the applause to die down. Beside her was a small table with a bottle of vodka, a blue Dixie cup, and a tube of lipstick. Behind her sat a guy at an electric keyboard.
Oh yeah, there were also five empty chairs on the stage. Arranged side-by-side like all they needed was contestants to fill them.
Matt had not forgotten William’s earlier statement that he would be up on stage with Bella. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to see where this was headed.
“Where’s the restroom?” Matt stood. He wasn’t a kid. Wasn’t asking permission. He was going to the restroom like the adult that he was—where, after peeing, he would hide in a stall if he had to, until this Bella business was over.
William shook his head. “The restrooms are in the hall, which means you can’t get back in here without proper i.d. And you’re underage—as you know, dahling.”
“So, go with me, mommy,” Matt said. “Wave your pixie dust or whatever you did to get me in here in the first place. To get me liquored up—even though I’m underage.”
William shrugged. “I’m fresh out of pixie dust. Sit down and enjoy the show.”
Matt grudgingly resumed his seat. What choice did he have?
Bella walked to the front edge of the stage, looked down into the dance pit, and singled out one of the guys.
“Hey, you! In the faux-leather jacket. Yes, you, biker guy. I think I’m packing a bit to the left. What do you think?”
The guy peered up at her.
Bella stepped back theatrically, crossed her legs. “Not my crotch! Pervert! Don’t look up my dress!”
She cupped her large hands over her even larger breasts. “These, sweetie! I know you’re gay but look up here. Is my left boob hanging lower?”
Everyone laughed. Even Matt.
Bella milked the laugh by shifting her fake boobs up and down, trying to get them aligned. Asked biker guy if she had it right yet. Commented on the absurdity of asking a gay guy if something was straight.
More laughter.
No matter what she did, the left boob sagged, which was obviously part of the gag.
“Anybody have any duct tape?” she asked.
“Of course not!” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of idiot asks a roomful of fags for duct tape! Condoms and lube? Buckets full. But duct tape? Where’s the dyke bar?”
Bella poured herself a finger of vodka, tossed it back, then paced the stage, peering into the crowd. “Any first-timers here tonight?” she asked.
Matt felt his stomach knot with anxiety. He did not like this game.
Several hands shot into the air, straining for Bella’s favor. Paul was one of them, standing near the front of the pit, waving his arms like a teacher’s pet. As if he wouldn’t be picked. As if this weren’t just another scene in William’s screenplay.
Matt glared across the table at William, who sat there sipping his bourbon. His face was the picture of innocence.
Bella picked Paul and three other guys, told them to come up on the stage and sit in the chairs like good boys while she shopped for another one.
She had to fill that fifth chair. She mused that the ensemble was lacking something.
The four seated first-timers included one African American and three Caucasian brunettes.
She needed a blonde to balance things out!
Matt felt the net closing in. The small blonde hairs on the back of his neck tingled.
Bella rejected the rest of the volunteers. They weren’t blondes, or, in one guy’s case, she quipped that he had claimed to be a first-timer the last three times she’d been to the Copa. She remembered his face. She’d fucked him by the dumpsters.
Bella studied the crowd, searching for a blonde. “Can I get a spotlight on the tables? I think I see one over there!”
The spotlight swiveled in Matt’s direction. He knew it was stalking him.
“I hate you right now,” he whispered to William.
“Say ‘hi’ to Bella for me, dahling.” William smirked.
Matt reached out quickly, snatched William’s drink and downed it in one gulp. Did the same with his quarantined one. The bourbon burned his throat, but he didn’t care. If he had to be on that stage, he needed his buzz back.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Bella asked Matt a minute later as he blinked in the harsh stage lights.
Matt mumbled his name.
“Mark-Paul Gosselaar!” Bella pretended that was the name Matt had given. “That’s a mouthful of a name, honey. And I’ve had some big things in this mouth!”
Laughter.
“I’m gonna call you ‘Zack,’” she said. “That was your character on Saved by the Bell, right? Oh, I loved that show, but that Vegas Wedding movie was a dud!”
Laughter.
Matt blushed, eyed the empty chair longingly.
Mercifully, Bella let him join the four other contestants.
Bella teased and flirted with all five guys. Nicknamed each of them. Paul was “Magnum” because, in his Hawaiian shirt, he supposedly looked like Tom Selleck.
Bella refilled her Dixie cup with vodka, offered to share with her five new “boyfriends.”
Matt took a big gulp, passed the cup to the guy next to him, and so on.
While the cup was working its way back to her, Bella addressed the audience.
“Dixie cups at parties. Always disappearing. Know what I mean? You fix yourself a nice drink, set it down for just a minute to go give a guy a blowjob, and when you come back some old hag is drinking from your cup!”
Laughter.
“So, what do you do when you don’t want old hags taking your property?”
“MARK IT!” The audience yelled. Hooted and yelled. They obviously knew this part.
Bella nodded. “Yep. MARK IT!”
By this time the Dixie cup had been returned to her. She retrieved the tube of lipstick from the small table, applied it generously to her lips, and then pressed her mouth to the cup’s side, imprinting the blue plastic with a distinct lip-shaped smear.
“That’s my mark!” she said, holding the cup high for the audience to see. “I better not catch any old hags drinking from it now!”
Loud laughter.
She eyed the five contestants suspiciously. “Or young fags!” she said. “Keep your mitts off my property!”
More laughter.
Bella set the cup down, then hesitated. Looked at her chest. Frowned. Pushed the left breast back into place. “Just double checking,” she said, gazing at the audience. “None of you dudes is a dyke with some duct tape, right?”
She waited a beat. “I only ask because some people are very good at passing as the opposite sex. Just sayin.’”
The audience loved her.
The guy sitting at the keyboard started playing soft music.
Bella gave up on her left breast, addressed the five contestants in the chairs.
Told them to get on their knees and open their mouths.
Walked up to each one, assessing angles—contestant’s mouth in relation to her crotch.
Joked that two of the guys would need to kneel on phone books, of which she had none.
Bella dismissed the two short contestants, kissed them magnanimously, and declared that the bartender would give them a free drink—if they could reach that high.
The keyboard music grew a little louder, more insistent.
“Hear that music?” Bella asked the audience. “That’s my cue to sing. First, though, I need you to help me pick which of these three remaining boys is going to be my—” (Big exaggerated wink) “—dance partner later!”
Loud cheering from the audience.
Bella turned to Matt, Paul, and the other remaining contestant. “Okay boys, take off your shirts!”
The crowd went wild.
Matt, Paul, and Other Guy stared at each other, unwilling to be the first to comply.
“Come on boys!” Bella urged. “Don’t be shy. You were going to be bare-assed by midnight anyway. Don’t try denying it. This is the Sooner state, right? Just get shirtless sooner!”
Paul shrugged out of his Hawaiian outer shirt, peeled off his t-shirt. Stood there with his rounded shoulders and soft belly, radiating confidence.
Matt and Other Guy followed suit—absent the whole “I-know-you-want-me” vibe.
Bella asked the audience to clap loudest for the one they thought the hottest.
Paul came in second place. Matt was happy for his friend. Would have been even happier if Paul had won.
Matt took first.
Bella dismissed Paul and Other Guy. Predicted they would have no trouble getting laid that evening.
Matt stood there shirtless, blinking in the spotlights.
He could feel the warm glow of the alcohol infusing him, mellowing him.
This was almost over. Soon he would be free.
Free to pee. He liked the way that sounded: free to pee.
Imagined how good it would feel—the peeing.
The exquisite almost-painful, almost-orgasmic tinkle tingle.
And then he would hunt for a fuck buddy.
“MARK IT!” yelled the crowd. “MARK IT! MARK IT!”
Bella grabbed her tube of lipstick. “Thanks for reminding me,” she said. “I’ve got to mark my property!”
It took Matt a moment to realize what (or who) was being marked. It dawned on him slowly, swimming through the fog of his brain. He was the Dixie cup! He was being marked! Purpose still not clear.
Bella kissed Matt’s chest, left her distinctive red lip smear on his left pec, near his heart.
The guy on the keyboard stepped up the volume.
Bella picked up Matt’s shirt, tucked one end of it into the back of his jeans, giving him a tail. Her fingers grazed the edge of his crack.
“You go now, baby, while Bella earns her keep. I’ll find you after the show.”
Matt stumbled down the stairs, but did not head to the table where William waited for him. Instead, he exited into the hotel’s main hall, found the bathroom. Drained his bladder.
A hot guy stood at the trough urinal, peeing. They checked each other out. Smiled. Matt was ready to follow this guy to his room, slap on a condom, and top off the evening.
Hot guy tucked his dick back into his jeans. Zipped up. “Too bad you’re Bella’s toy tonight. Bad for me, I mean. You really do look like that actor guy.”
Hot guy went to the sink, washed his hands, opened the door with a paper towel. “Next time you’re here, look me up,” he said before leaving.
Matt had no trouble getting back into the Copa. Even the bouncers recognized Bella’s mark.
He made his way to the table. William was watching Bella sing.
Matt sank into his chair. There would be no hunting fuck buddies for him that night. He was destined to be mauled by an 8-foot drag queen.