AUTHOR’S NOTE: This copyrighted story suggests that
sometimes realities mask fantasies instead of the other way around. The serious masker needs to be very careful
regarding what bets are made in the world of masked relationships. They must
also be aware of the fact that even the most contrived and carefully planned
fantasies may take on a series of directions and lives of their own. Often in
this situation, the masker/creator of the fantasy gets so involved in the
process that reality masks the obvious opportunities.
To the world at large, April Santamaria and Julio Zapata appeared as a normal on again off again unmarried couple. They had been in this hot and cold relationship for over five years. Julio's profession in ironwork took him out of state on a regular basis. He had to go where the ironworker’s union sent him. Sometimes he would be gone for days and weeks at a time if the construction project were a large one. He went wherever the freeways were being laid or the high rises were stretched into the sky. He could have stayed local all of the time by using his engineering and architectural skills, but stringing rebar for the construction of residential foundations paid a lot less than welding or bolting I-beams on the fifty-third floor of a high rise, sky scraping office building or hotel casino. This meant that at times he was working in Atlantic City and other times he was working in Las Vegas.
April's work could have been done anywhere, but she preferred to live in the rural parts the Chesapeake Bay area of the United States. The green trees and the blue-water shoreline suited her artistic temperament. Whenever Julio could get his work close to April's place, Julio moved in with her. She hated it when he chose to follow his wanderlust and go off to parts unknown. Often he would leave without any warning. She would wake up one morning and find a note on his pillow. Julio justified this behavior by telling April that he hated their emotional good-byes.
Granted, April was into the arts and fit the image of the “arty” type, but even though he had his engineering degree and a deep respect and appreciation for April’s work, Julio was as about average and middle of the road as one could imagine. He appeared to be as steady as a rock. Yet, April had never found a way to get him to push a pencil behind a desk instead of walking the steel on the cage of a future skyscraper. When they were together, the couple worked at maintaining Julio's hardhat image. It was to their advantage in the neighborhood and somehow this image had furthered both of their careers. Keeping this middle of the road image was a credit to their masking talents in that the image totally masked their lives as maskers.
Having come from devout Catholic backgrounds, their parents would have considered their masking behaviors as both deviant and demonic. This was another reason why Julio and April worked at masking their favorite activity when they were together. Their respective families wouldn't have approved if they had known about them. If the truth were known, Julio’s family, especially his mother, thought that April Santamaria was far too “wild” to make Julio a “good” wife. They were pushing other women at him whenever he went home to Los Angeles. Their favorite target was his college sweetheart, Carmen Naranjo. His family had even given her tickets to visit Julio when he was staying with April.
On the other hand, when they were apart, no one believed that Julio and April would ever get back together. Not only did their professional lives and styles take them into different environments, but the masking that they did when apart also created a whole different set of circumstances. While April was into the creation of masks and the art that it took to create her masks, Julio was more into the possible cross age and gender realities that masking could make possible. April loved looking at masks as art; Julio loved wearing them and getting women to wear them for him.
In point of fact, it was their joint interest in masking that had brought April and Julio together in the first place. They had both attended a gallery opening in Manhattan that required the patron to be in masquerade to gain entrance. April had attended the opening because she had several pieces in the show and Julio was there because of an art class assignment. The class was actually an iron sculpting class and appealed to his vocational interests during an extended job on a Manhattan skyscraper. Even though he already had his degree in structural engineering, he took the art class in the hopes of meeting some women who didn’t have calculators for brains and wedding bells in their ears.
The gallery opening had been staged like a huge Hollywood Gala. Some thought the opening resembled the show staged for the presentation of the Oscars. Unlike April's art and many of the other contemporary pieces in the show, most of the older works of art were real masterpieces and/or deliberate copies of masterpieces that had been created for films. Some the displayed art were actual frames or cells from famous animated films. Other works were pictures and sculptures created for title and/or credit backgrounds to famous films. Yet others were masters for trailer posters, while still others were the pieces of art that were used as props on sets or allegedly created by a character in the film.
Since the art in the show was full of memorabilia from the golden age of Hollywood, the masquerade was supposed to take the form of each gallery patron coming to the show as their favorite motion picture star. Most people came as parodies of their favorite movie icon, but both April and Julio had taken the whole activity very seriously. He went to the gallery opening as Raquel Welch and April had gone as Jennifer Lopez. As Julio recalled, April had shown the potential perfection of Jennifer Lopez. With a few minor surgical changes to her figure, April could have been Jennifer Lopez’s identical twin. They had a big fight when Julio had suggested this to April a year ago. He remembered that to his way of thinking, April’s masked version of Jay Lo was classier and better eye candy in a thousand little ways than the real Jennifer Lopez.
While it was clear that she was impersonating the star, April’s waist was a little trimmer and her breasts were much larger and shapelier. On the night they had met, she had been the gallery’s walking work of latex art. If she had continued to wear that outfit full-time, Julio would have been April’s forever. The only female image that turned him on more than April’s version of “Jennifer Lopez” was his own version of a young, leather-clad “Raquel Welch”. He always took that body suit and mask along with anyone of a large number of accessories in the trunk of his beloved Mercedes 500SL. He was always buying clothes for his latex “Raquel”. He was definitely aware that April was jealous of “Raquel” and “she” was the one female that he could never get April to impersonate for him.
In some ways their chance meeting at the gallery’s opening had been a pinnacle in their relationship. In many other ways it was symptomatic of it in that over the years masking had become and continued to be central to their time together. Masking was really the only area where the couple was totally open and honest with each other. Their masking had created a special trust and honesty through deception. It was the common clay upon which all other facets of what they did as a couple rested.
They were either planning a masking activity, setting up the masks and costumes or working out the masked fantasy. As a result of their relationship, some of April Santamaria's best and most valued work was her exotic theatrical masks. The couple's masking activities inspired many of them. For Julio Zapata these times of inspiration were interludes of joy that kept his spirit alive in this portion of his life.
Their photo albums were full of masking adventures that they had completed together. Most of them had been as two women. Sadly, when they evaluated their relationship, they realized that without the female masking adventures, they really didn't have any other common bonds. Yet, while their masking together became more intense, to the delight of Julio’s mother, Julio’s times away from April also became more extended.
To keep their masking life going, Julio and April were always looking for new
ways to spice up their adventures.
April suggested that they had exhausted the female masking approach and
offered to do the cross-gender portion of their next adventure. April even proposed that she be the only one
that was masked. Julio could go al
natural. Julio tried to block April’s move because he didn’t think it would be
as much fun to mask as two men. “If that were the case, then I would prefer to
have you mask as a female and I’ll go unmasked,” offered Julio.
Instead of taking Julio up on his suggestion April in her “George Masthead” persona made a bet with Julio in his role of “Dick Handjob”. She knew that she could get him by just using that name. He hated it, but that was part of her fantasy as well. The bet’s plot was that when they went into some designated bar as two men, April could hook up with a girl and have a sexual relationship with her before April’s male persona revealed that “he” was not a man and before Julio could duplicate the feat. While Julio believed in April's ability as an expert masker, he took the bet and said, "No one can mask that good April."
"That show’s you what you know, Mr. Handjob! Just because of that attitude, if we do this tonight, I will raise the stakes on you,” asserted April.
“What are you suggesting now, April?”
“Isn’t tomorrow your birthday, Julio?”
“Now that you mention it, thanks for remembering. I almost forgot it myself,” admitted Julio.
“Your mother would have called and reminded you Julio. Anyway, since it is your birthday eve we need to try for something beyond the cross-gender activities that you always set-up. If you want, you can try for the same woman as well. Or, you can try for some other woman that we both agree on. If you win the bet, the woman or women are yours for the night with no recriminations from me and I will be your masked Raquel Welch whore at a later date. However, after that date, we are through for good and always. I will not mask for you anymore. In addition I will not invite you into or entertain you in my bed. If you want we can still be amicable platonic friends, but that is all. Our masking days together will be over.”
“You could just turn off your masking just like that?” asked Julio.
“I didn’t say that I would not mask anymore. I just meant that I wouldn’t do it with and for you, Julio. On the other hand, if I win the bet, you come to work with me in Trenton, I continue masking for you and with you. We get married and I become your one and only."
“You must be even more confident of your masking ability than I thought or this whole bit is a total set up, George,” said Julio in his unmasked “Dick Handjob” role while thinking that April had really set him up with a no way to win the bet. Julio had no thought of marrying April or anyone else for that matter, including Carmen Naranjo. Marriage was just not an option for him at the moment.
While Carmen was the other significant female peer relationship in Julio’s life, over the eight years that he had known her, he had always viewed her more of a “family friend" that he went with to straight and unmasked functions. He had never, ever masked with Carmen, let alone mentioning the idea to her. However, if he was going to marry anybody it would probably be Carmen Naranjo and even that thought was on the far side of the Moon. Of course, his mother had made it clear to him in no uncertain terms that she adored Carmen and that she thought that Carmen would make her a wonderful daughter and a great wife for Julio.
However, in this context, April was much more than his recreational female. In fact, she was very special to him. Julio was straight in every way except for his cross-dressed female masking fetish. He never tried to mask that in his heart of hearts, he not only was a sexist; he was also a homophobe. He didn’t think that he could ever have a genuine masking experience with another man. Sexual acts with another male masked or otherwise, were totally out of the question.
Women who enjoyed masking at the level that April employed were extremely rare. Carmen would have probably run for the hills if she even had an inkling of what Julio did when he was away from her. He never had to worry about these issues with April. She was his true masking buddy. Besides, April’s version of Jennifer Lopez’s mask and costume would make the real Jennifer Lopez drool with envy. Even if it didn’t, it made him drool with desire. Unless he found a replacement, losing April would probably put an end to Julio’s public masked experiences if not his entire female masked life.
April pulled him back into their conversation with the comment, "If I wanted to pull a total set-up on you, Dickie-boy, I could have done that years ago, and it would have involved some strenuous bondage, my wandering ironworker. This is just a fish or cut bait bet, Dickie. It is time to go to another level in our relationship or say it was fun while it lasted and move on," proclaimed April while furthering the transformation herself into her masculine “George Masthead” persona.
"That's pretty harsh, George," countered “Dickie Handjob”. “I like our current level of masking, just the way it is.”
“That is because we always are doing it your way, Mr. Handjob! You aren’t listening to me again, as usual. I keep telling you that if we are going to stay together, that it is time for a change,” shouted April in “George’s” masculine voice.
“Let’s forget the whole idea about this bet thing. If you really want to do something for me on my birthday, why don’t you put on my Raquel Welch outfit and stop calling me Dickie Handjob? You know how I hate that name.”
“I already told you under what conditions that I would do your Raquel bit for you, Mr. Handjob.”
“And just so I get it right, that was…?” asked Julio.
“I said that I would only do your masked version of Raquel Welch as a swan song to show you what you had lost by winning our bet.”
“I guess you had better run the conditions of the whole bet by me again, April.”
“There is no April here, Dickie!”
“Okay. Run the components of the entire bet by me again, George.”
“You get your slutty Raquel bit for your birthday only if and when you win the bet, Mr. Handjob. If you lose, you don’t even get a blowjob. Either way, I get to use what you can do to yourself if you don’t play my game. I have watched your moves and I know that I can beat you at your own game,” said April as she completed her transformation. When she buttoned her great black wool topcoat, April asked through her “George Masthead” mask, “How do I look?”
“Like a young stud on the prod, George. I never said that you weren’t a great masker. That cigar smoking bit looks better on you as George than when you are April.”
“I thought you liked me as April and/or Jennifer when I smoked my cigars. After all, it was you that got me hooked on cigars in the first place. You said it was sexy. I even bought larger ones because you said that seeing me suck on a big stogy turned you on.”
“That is all true, Miss April Santamaria, but it doesn’t stop the fact that it also adds to your current image,” countered Julio Zapata.
“Didn’t I just tell you that there is no April Santamaria here, Mr. Handjob?” snapped April in her masculine voice through the lips of her “George Masthead” mask.
“Sorry George, you brought up the name, but it won’t happen again tonight if I can help it.”
“Then let’s go, my big Dick. To show you that I am betting in good faith, you can pick the place, but you have to remember to call me George all of the time. If you slip up and call me April, you lose the bet. Besides, April sounds funny on this persona.”
“I promise to call you George at all times, but if you are going to be George when we go out in public, and you insist on calling me Dickie, then I’m taking you into Washington DC.”
“I figured that you would try to pull that move, Dickie.”
“It’s no move, I am too well known in the Baltimore bar scene to be seen necking with you as George,” declared Julio Zapata.
“That sounds pretty homophobic to me, Dickie.”
“I like being seen in the company of woman. What is so wrong about that?” asked Julio Zapata.
“I can think of a couple of things that are very wrong with that concept, Mr. Zapata. One of them just happens to be a certain dreamy eyed, Miss Carmen Naranjo and the other is your wanton and slutty, Miss Raquel Welch.”
“I keep telling you that Carmen is more of a little sister to me and that you can do Raquel for me any time you have the guts to do her,” retorted Julio.
“So you keep saying but, I know that you take your Raquel with you everywhere in the trunk of your most affectionately beloved Mercedes, Dickie. Your family never bought me plane tickets to come and visit you when you were in Los Angeles. And besides that, I read the name of Mrs. Carmen Zapata in your little sister’s big brown eyes, Dickie! I guess you have conveniently forgotten that I met her at one of your family’s functions.”
“One more time, George, Carmen is just a family friend to me,” lied Julio in his unmasked role of “Dickie Handjob”. “Now who isn’t listening?”
“Why don’t you have her do you beloved Raquel Welch for you, Dickie?”
“For the third time in as many minutes, George, Carmen is just a family friend. You are the only person that I mask with.”
“I have heard all this goose grease and rubbish before, so where do you want to go tonight for your birthday party, Dickie?”
Julio hated being called “Dickie” even more than “Mr. Handjob”, but decided that now was not the time to pick a fight with April. She was on her high horse about Carmen Naranjo again. When he was with April, it seemed to him that April thought more about Carmen than he did. April was definitely on the prod and if she wasn’t starting her period, she would probably seduce him masterfully if he could just get through whatever masked fantasy she was into this evening. So he calmed his voice and suggested, “We can go into Georgetown. Some of those bars are pretty lose after the congressional happy hour crowd clears out.”
“It is supposed to snow later tonight, Dick. Even in my mask and body suit I can feel the nip in the air. Are you sure that you want to drive that far?” asked April/George as she got into the passenger side of Julio’s showroom perfect, Mercedes 500sl.
“This car was designed to be driven in stormy winter weather,” asserted Julio/Dickie Handjob.
“You had better check the oil and the anti-freeze anyway, Dickie. I don’t want to get stuck out on the road.” Without saying a word, Julio reached under the dashboard on the driver’s side and released the car’s hood latch. When Julio raised the hood to check the oil and anti-freeze, April pulled out her cell phone, made a call, and said cryptically and softly in her own voice, “It’s me. Did you get the money that I sent? Good. Are you ready? Good. As we planned, I’m George Masthead for the night. We are going to Georgetown. His favorite place there is the Arlington Arms, be at the bar as a blonde Gena Davis. I will stall in a gas station and call you if we need to make a different move. Got all that? Great.” April folded the phone, put her “George” voice implant back on and was altogether by the time Julio had checked the car’s fluids and put the sporty little car’s hood back down.
“Maybe by the time we get there, I can talk you out of this dumb bet,” declared Julio/Dick as he got into the car and started the Mercedes’ powerful engine. “As for the snow, the anti-freeze is fine and I have snow tires on my car. Germans built this incredible machine for winter alpine touring. In an all out blizzard, the Maryland and Chesapeake turnpikes couldn’t even begin to tax this magnificent automobile’s capabilities. ”
“I swear that you love this car almost more than you love masking, Dickie. I’ll bet that your sweet Miss Naranjo doesn’t know that! In some way I am more jealous of this mechanical beast than your family friend and the time you spend away from me. If some one told me that when you aren’t sleeping with me in April’s bed that you were sleeping on a drip pan in a garage somewhere next to your car, I wouldn’t hesitate believing that.”
“That is a pretty sad evaluation of my sleeping habits, George,” responded Julio.
“Well that is better for me than imagining you in another woman’s bed, Dickie.” Julio decided to concentrate on his driving. All of a sudden there was more ice in “George’s” voice than there was on the road. Besides, the onramp to Interstate 95 could get tricky at this point. One wrong move and you were on the Beltway instead. Hoping that April had dropped the discussion about his sleeping habits when she wasn’t with him, he waited for about ten minutes before once again trying to talk her out of her no win bet. Instead of achieving his goal, “George” said, “I guess you just don’t get it, Dickie. I already told you that if you don’t want to play, we are quits anyway."
“Okay. How do we pick out the girl when we get to the bar?” asked Julio in his role as “Dickie Handjob” and feeling damned either way he went. April must have been working on this trap for quite a while, because it was a good one.
"She can be any girl that comes into the bar/club tonight. Of course we both have to agree that she is the target of our bet," proposed April from within her “George Masthead” disguise.
“So you are saying that we will pick her out together?" clarified “Dickie Handjob”.
“That is exactly what I am saying, Dickie," confirmed April/George.
"But our tastes in women are so different. You are into the Gena Davis type and I am attracted to the Jennifer Lopez kind of female," observed Julio/Dickie.
"Since it is the eve of your birthday and just to show you that I can take you on your own ground, we can go for the Jennifer Lopez type, Dickie."
“No, we will play it your way since this is your bet. Let’s do the Gena Davis style.”
“Why are you caving in so easy, Mr. Handjob? That is not like you. I generally have to stroke you a lot more to get my way,” said April with a vicious tease in “George’s” voice as she reached her gloved hand into Julio’s crotch.
“Stop that, George!” yelled Julio.
“You never had me stop from doing that before, Dickie. It felt to me like Little Handjob wanted some.”
“Even if that was true, I am not doing anything sexual with you while you are dressed as this George Masthead persona,” said the homophobic Julio.
“I bet that I can change that attitude for you as well, Dickie. Would you like to make a cash side bet on that too?” asked April Santamaria/George Masthead.
“How much do you have in mind?” asked Julio.
“Just to keep it interesting, how about five hundred dollars?” proposed “George Masthead”.
“That is a little steep, George.”
“I bet you five hundred dollars that I can get Little Handjob ready for a blow-job before we get to the club,” proposed “George”. “If I lose, I will pay for the entire evening.”
“I’ll take that bet, George,” said Julio while thinking that he would win this side bet no matter which way the main bet concluded. Even though April made a totally believable “George Masthead” this fact turned Julio off instead of on as April had hoped. As April/George stuck “his” gloved hand back in Julio’s crotch, Julio said, “I don’t think you realize how hard it is to pick-up a really sexy woman in a bar, George. It takes real skilled technique unless you hook up with a girl where you are paying for it.”
“Okay, if that is your position let’s try for the Gena Davis type in case I need an edge?” proposed April though her mask as she continued at running her pre-planned agenda. “And, the loser will pay for the whole evening.”
"That is fine with me, George,” confirmed Julio/Dickie.
“Then you are on, Dickie," proclaimed April/George as she continued teasing Little Handjob. While George was able to get Little Handjob fully erected with “his” expert manipulative stroking, Julio blocked attempts at April/George’s attempt to relieve his need with a blowjob. “George” finally gave up and declared that Julio had won the side bet and that “he” would pay for their evening’s masked adventure. This concession really irked April and made her even more determined to win their main bet. It was a good thing that she had a paid accomplice waiting for them at the Arlington Arms bar.
When they finally arrived at a club in Georgetown, it was the Arlington Arms as April had predicted. After all she had learned that most of the time that Julio was a pretty predictable guy. That was both his strength and also what made him so boring at times. While Julio liked to do exotic things, he did the same ones over and over again in exactly the same way. He had very little tolerance for variation in his fantasy life. Their frequency and intensity almost made them normal and commonplace. That is why his resistance to her hand seduction in the car was such a warning bell. Julio had always succumbed to that move in the pass, but tonight he managed to reject her moves. That just wasn’t like, good old dependable Julio.
When they walked into the club, the couple began to scan the bar for likely candidates. The Arlington was in full swing for the evening. The place was one of those meat markets where young ambitious government types and junior executives came to play for an evening of no commitment recreation and tension relief. Julio had brought April here as his Jennifer Lopez Doll on a number of occasions. He would send her in first and then come in later and pretend to pick her up and deprive the rest of the suckers of her beauty. Julio totally loved that fantasy and April was absolutely tired of it. April didn’t even like the place, but it fit perfectly into her plans for the evening.
After getting adjusted to the smoke filled din and the flashing and swirling disco styled lighting of the bar, they started discussing the possibilities that appeared available. “By-the-way, George, since I didn’t get my blow-job on my way here, I guess the drinks are on you.”
“I still don’t know how you managed that, Dickie. I guess you have more self control than I thought.” From inside of her disguise, April Santamaria thought that Julio Zapata had to be totally frustrated and in the mood for almost anything at this point.
April really did have his number when it came to the crotch messages in the car, but the Mercedes’ bucket seats and being called “Dickie” all of the time had helped Julio lots when it came to winning the side bet. After careful consideration and negotiation, of all of the possible candidates sitting at the various bars in the Arlington Arms, they both settled on a leather-clad “Gena Davis” type that was sitting at the end of the bar located on a raised terrace above the dance floor.
Their candidate was a big woman. That is to say that she was tall and big boned, but all of her body fat had to be in her magnificent tits and ass. The only thing tiny about this fabulous looking woman was her incredibly small waist. She was wearing a well-tailored black leather pantsuit. Her long brassy blonde pageboy hair cut gently brushed her strong leather-clad shoulders. Under her bolero-cut leather jacket was a vibrant red satin blouse that matched the color of her large pouty lips. The blouse had also been tailored to accentuate her small waist while barely containing her magnificent rack.
Resting on the rails of her stool were a pair of well built, cleat-soled, platform boots with wide five-inch heels. While her boots were made for walking or dancing they also added to the elegant grace of her long leather-clad legs. The red satin blouse was neatly tucked into her high waist leather pants and was secured in place by a three-inch wide leather belt with a silver buckle decorated with nuggets of turquoise. A huge silver squash necklace of ornate silver beads and turquoise hung around her neck and drew attention to the mammoth crevasse between her spectacular tits.
Hanging from each shapely earlobe were a matching set of bangle silver and turquoise earrings. The earrings played tag with her hair as they dragged across her leather-clad shoulders. The black leather gloves on her long fingered hands were also adorned with turquoise encrusted sterling silver rings and bracelets. The red of her blouse contrasted with the blue-green of the turquoise and framed by the buttery soft black leather set the stage for the soft blemish free smoothness of her cream colored flesh. She was obviously prepared for the cold of the evening when she left the club, for hanging on the back of her stool was a black, leather-lined, hooded, full-length, mahogany colored mink trench coat.
Julio finally became totally turned on by the challenge created by “George’s” bet when he took stock of the sensual qualities of their choice. If he was to break up with April, at least from the physical aspect of things, this was the woman that he could do it for. She looked so good that she didn’t have to do Raquel for him. On the other had, he might enjoy being Raquel with their target.
Their quarry had to be something else as she had open stools on either side of her. As “Dick Handjob” studied their target he saw her buzz off at least five or six would be partners. “Dick” assumed that either she was the all-time bitch or that the guys that were approaching her just didn’t have the skills to charm a woman like he did. "Dick" and "George" approached their target and sat on the stools on either side of her. "I know this is going to sound gross," started out George, "but my friend Dick and I have a bet going and only you can solve it for us."
"I think I already know what this bet is about boys and I am not particularly interested in bedding either of you,” declared the large and voluptuous targeted female in a board, matter-a-fact voice that sounded like she was ordering a Grand Slam Breakfast at Denny's.
“That line was a colossal flop,” commented Julio as “Dickie Handjob” under his breath when he got back off of his stool and began to search for greener pastures. “That big mama is nothing more than a fabulous prick tease. I didn’t even get to try out any of my stuff.” All of a sudden Julio Zapata realized that he was talking to himself and that “George” was still at the bar and sitting next to the gorgeous, leather-clad “Gena Davis” type.
“Your friend gave up without a shot,” observed the “Gena Davis” type as she turned her deep blue green eyes in “George’s” direction. “He” could see why she was wearing the turquoise. The gems made her eyes all that more brilliant. “What is wrong with the guys in this place?”
“I guess that Dickie Handjob has even less guts than I thought,” said “George” while “Dickie” was trying to regain his position at the bar without looking like a total fool. “Bye the way, my name is George Masthead. May I ask what is your name?”
“Sure. It is Margie Dawn,” replied the big buxom blonde. “The name, Handjob, is very interesting. Where did that come from?”
“I think that Dickie was adopted by Punjabi parents or something like that,” lied April through her “George Masthead” disguise.
“That is most interesting,” said Margie with a thoughtful tone.
“What are you drinking?” asked “George” as “he” noticed the shot glass in front of her. “He” also wondered when the fabulous Margie Dawn was going to signal “him” that she was in place to help “him” win “his” bet with “Dickie Handjob”.
“I’m drinking double shots in a bucket,” replied Margie. “This place is famous for them.”
“What is that?” asked “George”. Maybe the Gena Davis type “he” was conversing with wasn’t the plant in the bar that “he” had hoped for. If she was, she sure was playing her cards very close to her huge red satin and black leather-covered chest.
“It is a double shot of tequila with a malted beer chaser,” informed Margie Dawn.
“That sounds like a pretty potent drink,” stated “George”.
“I came here to drink, George. I suppose you came here to talk and dance,” suggested Margie.
“I just came here for a good time,” declared “George”. Still no sign from Margie and “Dickie Handjob” was still trying to maneuver back into place at the bar. “I assumed that drinking, talking and dancing would be all part of that in some way.”
“Right you are, handsome. So now that we have the preliminaries out of the way and the bed scene is off the immediate agenda, what was the question you wanted to ask?” probed Margie.
“I guess it was a little presumptuous, but we wanted to know if we were the last two males on the planet, which one of us would you have picked to spend the rest of your life with?”
“Are we assuming that I am the last woman on earth?” asked Margie.
“I guess so. Why?” probed April/George.
“Well, George, what if there were other women still left? I might prefer at least one of them to both of you?” declared Margie with a wicked teasing smile on her lovely face.
This was no green horn, thought April behind her mask. She was really playing her part to the hilt. Maybe she was just having some fun of her own. On the other hand, April was almost sure that the “Gena Davis” type that they had picked out was a complete unknown to her. This could really get interesting. April was hearing alarms and was reading danger at every turn of their bar banter. Then “George” said, “That’s a good one, Margie. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That is the problem with most men today. They leave all of the thinking to the two tiny, one-track brains between their legs.”
“I suppose that now you are going to tell me that you would rather die alone then spend time with either of us,” suggested April/George just as “Dick Handjob” regained his stool on the other side of Margie.
“Boy, the nineties must have been hell for the two of you guys. The twenty-first century has so many gutless wonders in it that the pick-up game and repartee that went along with it has become a lost art for men under fifty,” proclaimed Margie.
“If you want to play games, I will play whatever game you want as long as we stay out of your bed,” offered Julio/Dickie while thinking that he could always play with Margie in some other bed. He found himself studying her turquoise and silver jewelry. While most of the pieces were of the large type that had been traditionally and generally worn by male Native Americans, the collection looked nothing short of spectacular on Margie Dawn.
“That goes double for me,” chimed in “George”.
“I figured you to say that George, but I’m not sure that you can keep up with me, George’s friend,” challenged Margie Dawn.
“The name is Dick Handjob.”
“I love that name, Mr. Handjob. George was telling me that you were adopted by Punjabi parents.”
“George is crocked full of information tonight,” commented Julio/Dick without confirming “George’s” assertion. “I’ll have whatever the lady is drinking,” said “Dick Handjob” to the approaching bartender.
“We are having double shots in a bucket,” declared “George”.
“Are we collecting shot glasses again tonight, Margie?” asked the bartender.
“What does that mean,” inquired Julio/Dick.
“You get to chose the type of tequila you want and you get to keep the shot glass as a souvenir,” declared the bartender. “Margie generally has El Patron Tequila chased by El Indio beer. Our girl here must have a magnificent collection of shot glasses. I have had to order a couple of extra cases of shot glasses since Margie came to town.”
This was getting more interesting by the word, continued April with her interior dialogue. From the bartender’s remarks it sounded like this woman was a regular here at the Arlington Arms. “If that is what Margie wants, that is what we will have,” stated “George Masthead”. “I collect shot glasses too. Can we smoke cigars in here?”
“Only at this bar,” said the bartender as he moved to the well to get their drinks.
“George” reached into his breast coat pocket for “his” cigar case.
“Do you have one in there for me too?” asked Margie.
“Now your are talking,” said “George” as “he” pulled out two long and fat El Presidentes from “his” cigar case. “He” handed one of the large cigars to Margie and stuck the other into “his” mouth to moisten the outer leaves. “He” then bit off the end of “his” cigar to form an air hole. “He” struck a match from the shot glass on the bar and lit “his” cigar with a long drag on the mighty stogie. Margie followed he lead, move for move. When their drinks came, “George” soaked the butt end of the cigar in the tequila before chugging it.
As “he” chugged the chaser, “he” thought he caught a glimpse of another “Gena Davis” type entering the Arlington Arms. The elegant movement of the second beautiful “Gena Davis” type through the club wasn’t lost on either Margie Dawn or “Dick Handjob”. If the new arrival was “George’s” ringer, then who was this Margie Dawn that “he” seemed to have a chance with? What if she was a plant of “Dick’s”? What if the most recently arriving “Gena Davis” type was “Dick’s” foil?
The plot was just getting better and thicker as far as April was concerned. She also enjoyed the confused look on Julio’s face. Either he was a better actor than she had realized or he was more perplexed by the turn of events than she was. Assuming the new arrival was her masked ringer, then the big blonde at the bar had to be a total unmasked stranger.
“These souvenir shot glasses are kind of cute,” commented Julio/Dick as he held it up to one of the flashing laser beams and used that glance to check on the position of the approaching “Gena” type. He observed that while the one who was sitting between him and “George” was a blonde and dressed in leather, the new arrival was more like the real Gena Davis in her softer roles. She had long wavy fox-red hair.
Despite her apparent natural beauty, this fascinating apparition sported a fashion mode that was generally worn by a well-tailored congressional aid or aspiring middle manager. In fact the cut of her charcoal-gray herringbone mid-calf-length, single-breasted wool suit was down right conservative. Her satin lined, black cotton trench coat was folded neatly over her left arm. Not a single hair of her glorious red mane was out of place.
This new “Geena” type was the kind of girl that always looked straight ahead and turned her entire body to look from side to side instead of messing her hairdo. Her knee-high shiny black boots had really sensible flat walking heels and could have doubled for riding boots. The smooth fabric of her white silk blouse was buttoned to the nape of her neck. The look of her jewelry was also very conservative and unobtrusive. Her necklace was a thin delicate looking, twenty-four-inch gold chain with a heart shaped locket dangling from it. Her ears were adorned by small heart shaped stud earrings.
There was nothing flashy about the restrained quality of this “Gena Davis” type but she was turning heads as she strolled confidently through the Arlington Arms. Julio felt himself staring at the tall graceful beauty, but he couldn’t stop himself. She had something very special and he felt strangely attracted to her. His ironworker side saw her strength, but his educated engineer side saw her sophistication.
The irony of this reality was that Julio was sitting next to one of his wettest dream fantasies and yet he was drawn towards the more conservative model. Margie had those huge Barbie Doll tits, yet the tall, thin almost athletic female that was coming in his direction didn’t seem to need the mammary pulchritude to be classically sexy. Then again, she probably had a nice set of hooters, but the cut of her suit and strong broad shoulders sort of hid them. All of a sudden Julio realized that he didn’t even feel this drawn to April’s fabulous rendition of Jennifer Lopez.
“I always thought these shot-glasses were cute too, in a masculine sort of way. Who’s buying the next round of drinks, boys?” asked Margie as her question brought Julio out of his deep interior observations. The second “Gena Davis type” continued to move in their direction.
“George” raised “his” hand after taking a deep drag on “his” cigar and said, “just put the round on my tab. Dickie and I will settle up later.”
“Save my space while I go to the powder room, boys. I should be back by the time our drinks come,” declared Margie when she slid off her stool and stood to her full height and took a long pull on her cigar. As she left her cigar in the ashtray she said, “You must tell me where you get your cigars, George. They are really wonderful. I just love the way they fit in my mouth.” While patting down the huge bulge in “George’s” pants, Margie added, “It kind of feels like…, I am sure you are getting the picture my cute Georgie Boy.”
Imagine what would it be like to have those long powerful legs wrapped around your body thought Julio to himself as he continued his interior dialogue with his alter ego. Too bad she seemed to be taken by “George’s” cigar smoking ways. Was Margie ever in for a big disappointment. Served her right for picking the wimpy “George” over him. Margie all but walked into the second “Gena Davis” type as they both veered off in the direction of the powder room. As they did, Julio appraised the ass wiggle of the two women and decided that he preferred the butt end of the red head to that of the blonde. The redhead’s was more restrained, but advertised the hidden treasures under her tailored herringbone skirt every bit as much as the blonde’s did for the goodies inside of her tight leather pants.
“I wonder if they realize how much they resemble each other,” said “Dick Handjob”.
“Who are you talking about, Dickie?” asked “George Masthead” after finishing “his” beer chaser and taking another deep drag on “his” cigar.
“Margie and that other Gena Davis looking woman, George.”
“Do you mean that tall red head that followed Margie into the rest room?”
“That’s the one,” answered “Dick Handjob”.
“Well, they are both tall women, but they have very different styles,” observed “George Masthead”.
“I could see that, George. I am not blind. Your comment about me being adopted was pretty wild.”
“I had to think of a way to explain your name. I always took you for a breast man, Dickie. I never figured you for a butt boy before.”
“I guess that is because you never dated me when you were a guy before tonight, George.”
“Touché, Dickie. So, if they come out of the rest room together, which one are you going after?”
“You seem to be making some headway with the blonde. I’ll try my stuff on the red head if she isn’t already spoken for. That will give you a clear field at trying to win our bet,” proposed Julio/Dick. April figured that the red headed Gena had to be her accomplice. How was she going to snare Julio into her trap if her accomplice had messed up and gone somewhere else? The bartender brought them their second round of double shots in a bucket.
The two “Geenas” came out of the vicinity of the rest room together. The lovely pair was a definitive extended essay on bi-polar beauty. Even the bartender stayed at “George” and “Dickie’s” end of the bar to observe the approach of the tall pair to his station. Their long, elegant stride had a similar rhythm to it as they all but glided through the club in the direction of Margie’s stool. They must have shared lipstick in the restroom as their large pouty lips had the same deep plum color on them.
“Do you boys think that we look like sisters?” asked Margie as the pair got within earshot of “George” and “Dick”. “The women in the little girl’s room say that we look like twins who were separated at birth. We don’t see it, but what do you think?”
“You aren’t twins, but sisters, maybe and definitely cousins,” observed Julio who stood to greet the pair and offer his stool at the bar to the lovely redhead.
“I think that you are definitely sisters,” commented April/George.
“Well we aren’t any of the above,” said the redhead in a breathy/sexy voice.
“Are you here with someone?” asked Julio/Dick.
“I appear to have arrived before the other members of my party,” responded the elegant redheaded “Geena Davis” type.
“Well you could do lots worse than waiting for your party with us,” offered Margie.
“I don’t know. This evening may have been a big mistake for me,” said the redhead.
“Let me guess, sweet cakes,” said Margie. “You are an intern in one of the congressional offices and the guy you are to meet here is the current heart throb in you life, but he is married.”
“Oh my, is it that obvious?” asked the redhead with a tear in her voice. “How did you guess so quick?”
“Your style of dress and the fact this place is a favorite hideaway for Congressional staffers and their married bosses. I see them in here all of the time. I have even dated a few of them as part of my lobbying duties,” declared Margie Dawn.
“You all must think that I am a wicked slut,” proclaimed the redhead.
“Not at all,” commented Dick/Julio. “Here. Take my seat. Have some of this tequila. It is very good and will give you some backbone.” From within the confines of her “George Masthead” mask, April heard a compassion and supportive softness in Julio’s voice that she had never heard him use with her. He had never given her one of his drinks, let alone his seat. She felt both rage and jealousy at the same time and swore to renew her efforts at winning their bet. Julio deserved to be feminized and miserable the rest of his unnatural life. The fact that Margie was a lobbyist also was interesting information. April/George wondered if Margie worked for any particular firm or was what was euphemistically called a freelance consultant.
“My name is George,” said April. “And, this considerate jerk is my best friend Dick. I assume you already know Margie.”
“Yes, we met in the little girl’s room. It is so nice to meet the three of you,” declared the rdhead.
“Do you have a name, Sweet cakes?” asked Margie.
“Of course I do,” said the redhead with a sheepish grin.
“Are you going to share it with us,” asked “George”.
“Sure, it is Marti. That is, Miss Marti Hymens.”
“Please use my stool while you wait for Mr. Right, Miss Marti Hymens,” offered Julio/Dick again. “If you don’t like the tequila we are drinking, we can order you something else. George is buying. He is celebrating my birthday and trying to show me a good time. He says that I don’t get out enough and that I am spending too much time with my sick maiden Aunt.”
“I am sorry to hear that your Aunt is ill, but I think it is so sweet that you are taking care of her. Happy birthday, Dick,” said Marti. As “George” continued to drink his beer he thought to himself that this soft sweet beautiful woman couldn’t be the accomplice that April thought she had enlisted to nail Julio. According to their plan, the accomplice was supposed to have on a black, full-cover, PVC cat suit and a platinum-frosted, strawberry-blonde gypsy-cut wig. She had said that she would also have a PVC trench coat hanging on her stool. When they first came into the Arlington Arms Margie had been the closest to that description, but April had already ruled her out. “Would you mind terribly if I just had a coke? I am so allergic to alcohol. I get woozy really quickly if I drink any kind of liquor.”
“Have you ever tried tequila,” asked Margie.
“No. I have not tried it, but now I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean, Marti?” probed “George”.
“I was supposed to meet my date for dinner. Do they serve food here? I haven’t eaten all day so that this suit would fit me just right. To be totally honest, I am starving, but I don’t want to spoil my appetite for my date.”
“They have some wonderful appetizers here, but this place isn’t known for its cuisine,” said Julio/Dick with manly authority.
“Do they have fried Calamari? I just love hot fried calamari,” bubbled Miss Marti Hymens’s sultry and breathy voice like she was making an evil confession.
“That sounds good to me too, Georgie-boy,” seconded Margie.
“What if your date comes, Miss Hymens?” inquired “George”.
“To hell with him. He should not be late like this. When he has done this before, it meant that I was being stood up.”
“Maybe the storm held him up,” suggested Margie.
“That is probably true if the storm you are referring to is the bitch he is married to. Anyways, I like you three lots better. You are a fun group with no compromising entanglements. If I was with my would be date, all I would have to look forward to is the ‘quickie’ he will try to force on me in the back seat of some dirty taxi before he heads back home to his hearth, battle ax, and respectable home. He is too cheap to spring for a hotel room,” proclaimed Marti with anger in her voice.
“That is so real, Honey,” confirmed Margie. “Stay with us and have some calamari. Let’s celebrate Dick’s birthday. It is going to be a long cold night and friends and a full stomach are good to have around when it is cold outside.”
“I thought you came in here to drink, Margie,” said George/April as “he” hailed the bartender and ordered a couple of sides of calamari, Marti’s coke and another round of drinks.
“When did that change, Sugar Chops. I can still put them down faster than you can order them,” announced Margie.
“These shot glasses are so cute,” commented Marti.
“You can have mine,” volunteered Dick/Julio.
“You mean they are giving them to you?” asked Marti.
“Not exactly, Marti,” said Margie. “They come along with the drinks that Georgie-boy is buying for Dick’s birthday party.
“You have four shot glasses already, Margie. How come you are ahead of the boys?”
“I started drinking before they got here,” replied Margie.
“I don’t know how you are doing that. Just one sip from one of those shot glasses would waste me. I am such a cheap drunk.”
“That is because you drink cheap liquor, Marti. We are drinking one of the world’s finest tequilas,” instructed Margie with a wicked wink as “George” and “Dick” watched from the sidelines. “Try a taste of mine. The ancient Zapotec called Tequila the nectar of the Gods. One tiny taste can’t do any harm. It is made from the maguey cactus. I think of it as concentrated cactus milk.”
“I don’t know if I should,” said Marti in a soft voice. “You make that Tequila sound so good, but I have never tried Tequila before. The last time I had alcohol I was drinking Scotch on the rocks. I lost five days. I mean that liquor totally erased my memory. When my memory came back I was in a hotel in Miami, Florida. I didn’t have any clothes or identification. My hair was dyed blonde and I went on an eating binge and gained twenty pounds. It was just awful, the only good thing was that the room was paid for, including the following week. There was also five thousand dollars for me in the hotel safe. What I did to get that money, I will never know.”
“Where were you when you had this Scotch?” probed Margie.
“I think I drank it in Seattle,” recalled Marti. “Yes, I am sure that I had that drink at the Roosevelt Hotel in Seattle Washington.”
“It sounds to me like you like to travel,” said “George”.
“Not really, George. All this happened to me in an unconscious state. I could even have killed somebody and not known that I did it. To this very day, I have no recollection of that trip other than an incredibly sore pussy, responded Marti.”
“How much Scotch did you drink?” asked Julio/Dick.
“I only remember drinking the first one. I don’t know if I had any after that,” confessed Marti.
“I have that problem with Scotch too, but Tequila is different. It will keep you warm on a long cold night,” suggested “George Masthead”.
“I heard that alcohol actually lowers your body temperature. You just think you feel warmer,” stated Miss Marti Hymens.
“You only go around once in your life. What do you have to lose? You have been stood-up and you are with friends,” declared Margie. “I will personally guarantee you a safe journey home.”
“All right, then. I will have just have a little taste to see what all the fuss is about,” said Marti as she reached for the full shot glass that the bartender had just placed in front of Margie.
“Are you sure you want to do that Marti?” asked Dick/Julio with concern in his voice. “I wouldn’t want you to lose another five days. From what I can see, you are the kind of woman that a real man could stay permanently home for.”
“What happened to the wandering ironworker, Dickie?” asked “George Masthead” with venom in “his” voice.
“Who said that I was talking about me, George?” countered Julio/Dickie.
“Would you take care of me Dick if I needed help getting home?” asked Marti.
“There are only two seats in my car and George came with me. Besides, one or two more of these and I won’t be driving anywhere for a while, Marti,” answered Julio/Dickie.
“I don’t think anybody is going to be doing much driving tonight. There is a huge Nor’Easter bearing down on us. It is supposed to be the biggest storm this winter,” said Margie.
“You can walk to my place from here, Mr. Dick Handjob. Did anybody ever tell you that you have a really interesting name?” inquired Marti.
“All of the time, Marti. I guess I could walk you home, but your coat doesn’t look heavy enough to take on the storm that Margie just described.”
“What the hell? These big storms come and go all of the time. Let me have that shot glass, Margie.” Marti took the shot glass and shot the tequila like a pro. Then she reached for the beer chaser and chugged it as well. Her three companions stood and watched in stupefied amazement. “You are right. That stuff tastes wonderful. I think I will have another round. I have some catching up to do.”
“Hold on just a minute now, Marti,” exhorted Dick/Julio. “That stuff packs a wallop but you won’t feel it for a few minutes. You had better eat some food first.” Julio never tried to stop me from getting well oiled, thought April inside her disguise. He must really like this Marti girl.
“You are so sweet, Dick. Here, hold my suit coat,” said Marti as she took off her tailored herringbone jacket and revealed that the suit had a vest under the jacket. “It is really getting warm in here. Why don’t you let me be your birthday girl, Dick? I always wanted to walk into a bar and meet a sweet caring guy like you.” Is this dumb broad in for a sexist surprise thought April to herself? She can’t be for real. This is not the way things should be happening. I had better pick up the pace with Margie or Julio is going to win this bet as well. While April was thinking these thoughts, Marti reached for the shot glass in front of Julio/Dick. He tried to stop her, but Marti had shot the tequila before he could. “Let me have that beer, Dick. This Tequila is making me thirsty.”
“Why don’t you try your coke instead?” suggested Julio.
“I don’t think that the coke taste will be as good with the tequila as the beer would be,” said Margie.
“That’s it exactly, Margie,” said Marti with a laugh.
Margie didn’t try to stop Marti from getting the second tequila or beer. The bartender placed the orders of calamari on the bar while Marti was chugging her second beer. “Gosh, George. You are right about this stuff. I feel lots better than when I came in here, but I think I should take off this vest. Would somebody tell the bartender to turn down the heat in this place?”
Marti unbuttoned her vest and handed it to Julio/Dick. Julio was beginning to feel like a coat rack. He was holding her overcoat, jacket and vest. He also felt obligated to stop Marti from drinking anymore. He didn’t want to be holding her blouse as well, unless they were somewhere a lot more private. Fortunately, the stool next to him became vacant and he draped her clothes on the back of it. Next, Julio/Dick took one of the platters brimming over with fried calamari and offered some to Marti while taking a few pieces for himself.
Marti responded to Julio/Dickie’s move by taking several pieces and wadding them into a role. She then puckered her full, plum-colored lips like she was preparing to do a blowjob and sucked the role of calamari into her face. Her move almost made Julio cum in his shorts. Then she reached for her coke and sucked on the straw in the same fashion. “This coke really goes good with the calamari. Bartender? We seem to have gone dry down here?” shouted Marti as she took Margie’s cigar out of the ashtray and took a long drag on it. Julio imagined that the cigar was his penis. And messed his shorts as Marti made love to the cigar. “This is a great cigar, Margie. Where did you get it?” asked Marti when she put it back in the ashtray.
“I like it too. George gave it to me,” said Margie as she reached for her cigar to reclaim it.
The bartender came over and George ordered another round. “I think I have all the shot glasses I need to remember this evening,” commented Julio. Better give Marti and I two cokes.” There he goes again. He is stopping himself from drinking to protect this damsel in distress, thought April inside of her “George” mask. There is no way that I am giving that bitch one of my cigars.
“Do you have any cigars here like the one that Margie is smoking,” asked Marti Hymens.
“We only have a small selection of Windsor cigars, Miss,” informed the bartender.
“Do you have any really fat ones?”
“That would be the Windsor Chubb, Miss,” said the bartender. “It is also their finest rum soaked cigar.”
“Can I have one of those with my drink?” asked Marti. “I have heard that rum and Coke taste good together.”
“Certainly, Miss. Should I put that on your tab as well, Sir?” questioned the bartender while looking directly at “George”.
“I guess so. Sure, why not?” said “George Masthead”.
“You are a real sport, Sugar, but I would like to try one of those rum-soaked cigars too, Georgie-boy,” declared Margie Dawn.
“Give Margie Dawn one as well, barkeep,” said George/April. This evening was definitely going to do some major damage to my credit card, thought April.
“So that is two double shots in a bucket, two large cokes and two cigars,” recounted the bartender.
“You got it, Barkeep,” said “George”.
Marti was making another of her calamari rolls and Dick/Julio excused himself to go to the restroom and straighten out the mess in his shorts. He figured that a few paper towels should do the job if he got there before the mess bled through to his pants. “I need to make a visit to the little boy’s room, Ladies. Those Beer Chasers have relaxed my kidneys.”
“Why don’t I join you, Dickie?” asked “George”. “Margie and Marti can hold the fort here.”
“We sure can,” said Margie. “Don’t be too long in there. Now that Marti has pulled us even, I don’t want to get ahead of you again, George.”
“I might be a couple of minutes, George,” confided Julio/Dickie as they made their way to the restroom.
“No problem. This break will give the girls a chance to compare notes. This might even work for us,” said “George Masthead”. “That Marti Hymens is kind of cute. I could go for her myself.”
“She is a nice girl, George. Remember who you really are. I don’t think that she is used to the kind of games that we are.”
“Well you never, know, Dickie,” said “George”. “But I will stay with Margie if she will have me. I think she came in her car, so maybe I could catch a ride from her and you could take Marti home.”
“Is that really all right with you, George?” I mean how will April feel about that?” asked Julio/Dick.
“April will figure out something, Dickie. Just don’t forget that we still have our bet going.”
“You lost the last bet, George. Are you sure that you want to continue with the current one?” asked Julio Zapata in his role of “Dickie Handjob”.
“Are you afraid that I will score and you won’t, Dickie?”
“I am just afraid that mine will pass out before I can get a chance to score, George,” stated Julio/Dick as they walked down the hall towards the restroom doors. “I think I will order some more food when we rejoin the women. Don’t worry about the costs. I will pay for it.”
“I said I would pay for the evening and that is a bet I won’t let you make me welch on,” insisted George/April. “So far, the whole bit has been worth it anyway. I have learned lots about you that I didn’t know, Dickie.”
“What for instance?”
“That is for me to know and you to find out, Dickie.”
“Bye-the-way, which restroom are you planning to use tonight, Georgie-boy?” said Julio/Dickie as he mimicked Margie.
“I can’t go into the woman’s restroom dressed like this, Dickie,” said “George Masthead” from inside her disguise. Besides, April was looking forward to going into the men’s hallowed sanctum.
“This is really going to feel weird,” declared Dick/Julio as they entered the men’s restroom and headed for a couple of vacant stalls.
As April closed her stall door, she said in her purposefully effeminate “George Masthead” voice, “You are the only one that will ever know what I am really doing in here, Dickie Honey.”
“You are in the wrong bathroom GIRLS!” growled a big burly guy at the washbasin.
“No we aren’t, sweet cakes said April with a really foppy hand motion and body language through her “George” disguise. Julio couldn’t get into his stall fast enough. He made sure that the door was locked tight.
Once in their respective stalls, Julio set out to clean up his shorts and put on a rubber with a constriction ring to prevent a recurrence. April made some minor adjustments to her costume including fully inflating her huge dildoe to encourage Margie. Julio vowed to get April back for the embarrassment she had made him feel just now in the bathroom. Every male eye had focused upon him when she had called him “Dickie Honey.” He felt the glares that said, “fags in the John”.
Julio Zapata guessed that he was probably more homophobic than even he thought he was. He would have to work on that. He never again wanted to be guilty of throwing the looks that he had just received from the other male occupants of the restroom. Even so, after he was done with his business, he waited silently in the toilet stall until he was sure that all the other occupants had left the restroom. When he ventured out of the stall only “George” was standing by the washbasins.