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The Foxxxy Gentlemen’s Club: Christian (Bonus Scene)


     There was a key burning a hole in my pocket, but I ignored it as Chrissy waved his hands animatedly. He had a smear of salad dressing at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t notice as he chewed his lettuce and talked a mile a minute.

    “So we’re putting on a drag show and auctioning off the queens to raise money for homeless queer youth,” he was saying. “Rainbow Roofs actually helped Taylor get back on their feet after they’d been living on the streets for years. Some director guy from San Francisco is here with his super hot husband—”

     “What?” I scowled, and Chrissy grinned.

     “Oh, you are listening to me. I thought I was talking to an empty room.” He took a drink as I rolled my eyes.

     “I always listen to you. So how hot was the husband?”

     “Not as hot as you,” he purred. “Don’t worry. I’m a one-man-jam kind of a girl.”

     Reaching across the cafe table, I took his hand and squeezed. “I know.”

     Light pink spread over Chrissy’s cheekbones, and he focused on his salad, stabbing at the lettuce leaves with gusto. “Anyway, so Sasha is gonna MC the event, and we’re gonna dress some of our security team and Joe in drag. Angel, Darius, and Evan, the straight bartender. You know, the manliest men we have in the club.”

     I laughed at the mental image of Joe dressed in drag. “I thought the point was to raise money?”

     Chrissy blew a raspberry. “We’re a gentlemen’s club. We can’t take things too seriously.” His fingers caressed the back of my hand, and he bit his bottom lip, fluttering his eyelashes. Uh-oh. That was his I-need-a-favor look.

     “Wait a minute,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

     “We need more guys to auction off,” he said, pouting his lip. “You’ll look great in a dress, I promise.”

     “No!” I growled, ripping my hand from his, feeling utterly betrayed. “Is that why you invited me to lunch? So you could butter me up?”

     “How dare you.” He clutched as his blouse, scandalized. “I asked you to lunch because I like you… and to butter you up.”

     I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Chrissy.”

     “Please, Gordy?” he begged, leaning across the table as his eyes grew wide and innocent and pleading. “Please?”

     “I don’t want to be auctioned off,” I grumbled.

     “What if I promise to buy you?”

     “Just donate the money!”

     “And deprive the world of seeing Gordon van Dierman in drag? Are you insane?” He cackled. I frowned. “What? You too manly for it?”

     With a sigh, I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “You know that’s not it.”

     “It’ll be fun,” he said.

     “I don’t think it will,” I said.

     “Do it for me? I’ll make it worth your while.” The smile he sent me was a Christian Foxxx smile, dripping sex and sinful promises. He dropped the volume of his voice so the other cafe patrons couldn’t hear. “I’ll do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.”

     I leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on my twined knuckles. “I’m listening.”

     He chuckled triumphantly. “You can choose what I wear.”

     “The white, lacy one?”


     “And we can use the big, purple—”


     As I hardened in my jeans, I shifted in my seat. “And the handcuffs?”

     His breathing was uneven now. “Yes. And I’ll even let you spank me first, so my ass is all red.”

     “Jezus.” I inhaled deeply. “Other than looking ridiculous in drag, what else am I agreeing to?”

     “A date with the highest bidder. Just drinks. Nothing else,” he said before I could protest.

     “I’m not good at small talk,” I warned.

     “You’ll be perfect.”

     I ground my teeth, then offered my hand. “Deal.”

     “Deal.” He beamed at me as we shook hands. “You’re going to look so amazing, and you’re keeping the beard.”

     “A bearded drag queen?” I asked, and he nodded.

     “It’s gonna be marvelous.”

     I wasn’t so sure about that, but what I would get in return was worth just about anything. “If you say so.”

     “Now,” he said as he wiped his mouth, finally cleaning the dressing from his face, “you wanted to show me something, right?”

     Nerves exploded in my stomach as I nodded. “If you’re finished.” I gestured to his mostly empty plate.

     “Yeah, I’m full.” He plopped his napkin onto his plate and stood.

     I tossed cash on the table to cover the meal and a tip, then took Chrissy’s hand and led him from the cafe. Even covered in snow, South End was a beautiful neighborhood. After allowing Adam to drag me all over Boston to look at apartments, I understood Chrissy’s desire to live here. It was trendy and queer friendly, and Worcester Square was beautiful with historic, red-brick buildings. The condos here were pricey, but Adam had gotten me a good deal.

     As we walked down Worcester Square, Chrissy watched me with a bemused smile on his face. I tightened my grip on his hand and remained silent until we came to a stop near the end of the row houses. Guiding him to face the building I’d be living in, I hooked my chin on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.

     “What are we doing?” he asked.

     I slipped the key I’d been carrying around for a week out of my pocket and placed it in his hand. “I’m not asking you to move in,” I said carefully as he gasped. “But I know what I want. I hope this can be a place that you can see yourself living too. Someday. For now, this is your key. There will be a drawer and half the closet left empty for you. The bed will be big enough that you don’t have to lay on top of me for us both to fit.”

     He choked on a laugh, and I kissed his chilly cheek. “You can keep a toothbrush here. Your lotions and fruity shampoo crap. Your disgusting cereal.” He laughed harder as I continued, “And one day, I’m gonna ask you to stay. I hope you’ll say yes.”

     “Gordon,” he croaked, curling his fingers around the key in his palm. “Gordon, I—”

     “You can even bring the feral demon with you,” I muttered grudgingly.

     Spinning in my hold, he stared at me with wet, hazel eyes. His nose was red from the cold, cheeks ruddy. His breath fogged between us in choppy puffs. I framed his face with my hands and smiled.

     “Just let me love you, Christian,” I said, and he made a pained noise in the back of his throat. “That’s all I need from you right now.”

     “Gordon, this is…” When I tried to interrupt him, he pressed his fingertips to my lips. “This scares me, but not because I want to say no. Because I want to say yes.” My heart dropped to my toes as our foreheads met. His voice trembled as he said, “I’m not going to. Not yet. But I will. Someday. Because wherever you are, Gordon, is where I wanna be. Okay?”

     “Ik hou van jouw,” I murmured against his fingers, and he laughed wetly.

     “I know.” He shook his head and stomped his foot like a little kid. “Great, now I owe you double. We’re gonna have to do that other thing you’ve always wanted to do.”

     I reared back, nostrils flaring. “Seriously?”

     “Oh yeah.” He stepped into my space, nuzzling my nose with his. “I’m gonna rock your fucking world.”

     “You already do.”

     “Shut your stupid, beautiful face!” he whined, then he smashed his lips on mine, kissing me desperately.

     I grunted as he jumped, wrapping his legs around my waist. When I tried to catch him, my foot slipped in the slush, and down we went. His knee sunk into my gut as my hand tangled in his hair, yanking out several strands from his scalp. He shrieked. I groaned.

     “You know,” I panted out, “if you don’t want to move in with me, you can just say so. You don’t have to murder me.”

And Chrissy threw back his head, and he laughed and laughed and laughed.



Dry Roses and Diary


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