Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 MM exhib oral anal

   It's Saturday night and Brian is laid out on the couch watching another
documentary on Netflix.  He figures he's probably the most boring person in
Fort Lauderdale, and that's saying something considering the number of old
people retired around here.  He's mostly waiting for Jeordie to get home so
they can smoke a bowl and he can tell him about whatever sloppy shit went
down at the club tonight.  Jeordie is always full of good stories. 
Especially now that he's got the top billing at work.  Brian delivers
pizzas, which is exactly as shitty as it sounds.

   Brian hears Jeordie's key in the lock and pauses his documentary,
sitting up and looking over at the door as Jeordie makes his entrance.  The
door opens and Jeordie trips in, nearly dropping his bag of clothes and his
keys.

   "Fuck," Jeordie says.

   "How was work?" Brian asks.

   "Fucking fantastic," Jeordie says, sounding like work was the absolute
opposite of fantastic.  "Bachelorette party."

   "Oh no," Brian says tragically.  Jeordie dumps his bag on the table,
digging through it.

   "You'd think women would tip more generously," Jeordie says, "with the
whole objectification thing being relatable I guess?  Because female
strippers?" He pulls out a wad of ones and drops them in Brian's lap.  "But
nope.  Fucking ones." He flops on the couch next to Brian.  "The men may be
gross but at least they tip with fives and tens.  Christ."

   Brian rifles through all the ones - well, it's not all ones, because he
finds a few bigger bills, including a twenty - and counts in his head. 
"This has to be like a hundred and fifty bucks though," he says.  "This is
more than I make in a week." Jeordie scoffs.

   "Well it was a shit night for me," he says.  "Learn to walk in heels and
I'll bring you in to try you out."

   "I'm way too straight to strip in a gay club," Brian says.

   "Please," Jeordie says, taking his cash back.  "I'm like, the only queer
that dances there."

   "Seriously?" Brian asks.

   "Yeah," Jeordie says.  "I'd bring you in but like.  You have nothing to
wear." Brian snorts.  Jeordie looks at him.  "You have lingerie?"

   "A bit," Brian says.  "I'd probably have to go shopping if I got the
spot but I have stuff to try out in." He pauses.  "I mean, if I tried out."

   "Please," Jeordie says.  "You can borrow my heels but then you have to
get your own after you get in.  I really need somebody to fill the chair
next to me because the gay guy on the other side of the empty space is
trying to get up my ass far enough to chew my food for me." Brian smiles
weakly.

   "Maybe I'll try," he says.  "He'll be disappointed to be stuck next to a
straight guy then."

   "You realize men are gonna hit on you right?" Jeordie asks.

   "They already hit on me," Brian says.  "I literally look like a woman."
Jeordie cocks his head, considers it.

   "I guess that's fair," he says.  "I'm gonna get the pipe and shit.  And
change your fucking Netflix shit because I ain't trying to watch a
Holocaust documentary while I'm getting stoned."

   x

   Brian learns that he isn't much good at any of the fancy pole tricks
that Jeordie tries to teach him.  He learns that strip clubs are poorly lit
even in daytime, and that he makes a pretty good femme.  Even Jeordie looks
impressed, which is saying something, considering that Jeordie regularly
gets mistaken for a women even when not in drag.  Brian borrows a pair of
Jeordie's flatforms and mismatches his stockings and teases his hair and
does his makeup and just generally looks like a goth girl version of
himself.

   "You have to pick a name," Jeordie says.  "Pick a chick's name.  It's
way funnier that way."

   "What's yours?" Brian asks.

   "Twiggy," Jeordie says.

   Brian looks at himself in the mirror.  With all the lace and the
stockings, he does look rather glamorous.

   "Marilyn," he decides.  Jeordie snorts a laugh.

   "Cute," he says.

   Brian smooths his lace out and makes sure he's properly tucked.  He
wants to make a good impression.  And apparently he does, because while
Pogo, the club owner, is difficult to read, Jeordie is an open book.  Slack
jawed, blinking dumbly as he watches Brian sliding his ass up and down the
pole.  Pogo tells him he needs to learn more pole tricks and Jeordie
quickly promises to help teach him during off hours.  But he somehow gets
the spot.  Brian suspects Jeordie was a bit too biased when recommending
him, or he probably lied to Pogo about his work experience to make him look
good.  Either way, he's in.

   x

   Brian goes shopping on the Thursday before his first weekend of work. 
There's not much in the thrift shop, but he finds a one-sleeved red sequin
top at Goodwill that he thinks would be perfect.  He gets a tacky pair of
go go boots and at the dollar store he picks up some cheap stockings.  He's
on the couch in them, carefully ripping them open, when Jeordie gets home
with takeout.

   "I think I'm going to dance to Nine Inch Nails," Brian decides, "and I'm
gonna wear my platforms I already have."

   x

   Brian sits down at his chair.  He puts down his makeup bag on the table
and starts unpacking his clothes into the drawers.  Jeordie sits in the
chair next to him.  Brian's vanity looks remarkably bare next to Jeordie's
- there's makeup strewn across the surface, with several swear words and
penises scratched into the paint.  He's got dresses and stockings
overflowing out the drawers.  Brian folds his shredded stockings as much as
possible and tucks them away.

   "Did you bring your hairspray?" Jeordie asks, opening a compact and
smearing white foundation on his face.

   "Oh," Brian says.  "No.  I forgot.  It's cool though." He hangs a couple
bracelets on the drawer pulls.

   "Maybe John will let you borrow some of his," Jeordie says.

   "Who's John?" Brian asks.

   "The queer who sits at the chair next to yours," Jeordie says.  Brian
looks over.  There's several large containers of craft glitter and a
feather boa.

   "Ah," Brian says.  He unzips his makeup bag and digs.  He's not
unfamiliar with doing makeup, but he's not really that great.  He mostly
likes to make himself look as creepy as possible.  He changes his mind and
decides to dress himself first.

   He wears the same thing as he auditioned in, a lace slip with some
ruffled panties.  He tucks carefully and manages to get his stockings on
without tearing them any more than they're already torn.  Jeordie is
haphazardly smearing black makeup around his eyes.

   "Hey," a voice says behind them.  Brian looks up from his makeup bag. 
"New guy?" This must be John.  He's wearing a sheer mesh crop top. 
Definitely gay.  Brian is straight but has had a penis in his mouth, so he
figures he has the authority to figure these things out.

   "Yeah," Brian says.  "I'm a friend of...  Twiggy's."

   "John," the guy says.  He has bleached blonde hair.  Also probably a
sign of him being gay.

   "Brian," Brian says.  "Well.  My stage name is Marilyn."

   "Twiggy seriously talked you into a girl's name?" John says, sitting
down.  "You must be queer too."

   "Nope," Brian says.  He draws on one eyebrow but the other won't work so
he decides fuck it and takes them both off.

   "Trust, John," Jeordie says, "if Brian was gay I would've sucked his
dick by now.  I live with him."

   "Shame," John says.  "Well I hope Brian likes being fawned over by men."

   "I'm not opposed to any type of fawning," Brian remarks.  He grins and
pours out his makeup bag to pick colors.  He opts for some sort of messy
red eyeshadow look and black lips, powdering his face again before he gets
his boots on.

   "Are you going on floor tonight to do lap dances?" John asks, either to
Brian or Jeordie, as he dusts himself with blue glitter.  Brian leans away
so it doesn't fall on him.

   "I am," Jeordie says.  "Bitches love the creepy doll look." He smears
the black around his eyes with his fingers.

   "I guess I should," Brian says.  "Would probably pay off to meet
people."

   "I, for one, look forward to seeing you pretend to be into these creepy
old fucks," Jeordie says.  He snorts a laugh.

   "I'm a good actor, I think," Brian says.

   "I'm going on the floor," John says.  "See you fairies later."

   "Fuck you," Jeordie says, smiling.

   "I can't help but sense an underlying but aggressive sense of
internalized homophobia with him," Brian says.  Jeordie scoffs.

   "John Five licked my asshole for real," he says.  "He has some issues."
He puts his mascara down and sighs.  "Should be about time for you to go
on. Want me to announce you?"

   x

   Brian isn't nervous, really.  He's gone past nervous, to the point where
he doesn't even feel anxiety anymore.  He's so far beyond being nervous
that he's calm.  He might throw up.  Maybe he should've asked Jeordie to
give the front row ponchos.

   The good news is, the lights are bright enough that he can't see past
the first few tables.  That helps.  He shrugs off the fur coat he borrowed
from Jeordie and saunters down the stage to the pole.

   Oddly enough, people whistle at him.

   It's a strange feeling, Brian decides, having strangers want to fuck
you. He can see it in the way they watch him swing his hips and slide down
the pole.  He peels the slip off and scratches his nails down his chest,
lowering himself to crawl along the stage.  Brian feels someone tuck a bill
into the waistband of his panties and he must look like a whore.  He can
feel the pride welling up in his chest.  And when he catches a very
wide-eyed Jeordie peeking out from the backstage door, he can't help the
grin on his face.

   x

   "Holy shit," Brian says, setting down the final bill.  "This is
eighty-seven dollars."

   "My baby slut," Jeordie says, grabbing Brian's head and kissing the top
of it.  "Now just wait till you start giving lap dances."

   x

   Jeordie comes home from work on the Wednesday after Marilyn's premiere.
He looks flustered, hurriedly rushing and stumbling over his words.

   "People were asking where you were tonight," Jeordie says, as soon as
Brian has paused his film.

   "What?" Brian asks.

   "Apparently you were a hit," Jeordie says.  "You better come in
tomorrow. And you better work floor."

   "Seriously?"

   "One of my regulars says he has a fresh hundred dollar bill waiting for
a private dance," Jeordie says.  He raises an eyebrow.  Brian purses his
lips.

   "Right," he says.  "I'll go in with you tomorrow then."

   x

   Lap dances, Brian learns, are difficult.  They require an inordinate
amount of arm strength that Brian does not possess.  Plus, middle aged men
don't really appeal to him, and pretending to be into them is a challenge.
Also, Jeordie makes it really hard to concentrate.

   Brian is currently schmoozing up to this guy, who's been sat on this
couch in this exact spot since he got here.  He's probably forty, wears a
wedding ring, and when he got his wallet out to tip Brian, there were
pictures of two little girls in it.  Brian leaves the twenty hanging out of
the stay up top of his stocking and climbs into the guy's lap.

   Brian guides the guy's hands to his corseted waist, leaves them there as
he shakes his hair out and circles his hips.  It's when he turns around to
sit back in the guy's lap and grind into him that Jeordie gets distracting.

   Jeordie isn't purposely being distracting, which is part of what makes
it so maddening.  He's on the stage at the pole, dragging his skirt up his
thighs.  Brian blinks rather stupidly, sits still in the guy's lap for a
split second, and stares.  Jeordie's legs are long for how small he is, and
the way his dress rides up when he hooks a knee around the pole is
practically obscene.  Brian hisses a little bit through his teeth.  Oh
yeah. Right.  He has a job to do.

   It's almost physically painful to turn himself away from his first
glimpse of Twiggy - it doesn't even look like Jeordie on the pole.  But he
manages.  He puts his hands on the guy's shoulders and rolls his hips over
his lap, just an inch too high to make any contact.  Brian pulls his hair
off his shoulder and peeks, just for a second, back at Jeordie.  At Twiggy.

   Jeordie has his dress hiked up above his ass, his tights sheer enough to
show the lace of his panties.  He reaches behind himself and grabs the back
of his tights at the seam and tears them open, ripping them wide enough to
slide a hand in.

   Brian blinks a lot very quickly, turning back to this customer who now
looks even more like a toad than before.  Brian schemes, which is something
he is very good at.  He leans into the guy's ear, arches his back.

   "Isn't Twiggy fucking hot?" Brian asks him, looking over at the stage
where he's now lost the dress.  "He's so sexy." The words sound weird
coming out of his mouth, mainly because he's never called Jeordie Twiggy
before now and also because calling his male best friend sexy is not the
sort of compliment he usually gives.

   "Do you two dance together?" the customer asks, looking over with him.
Brian manages to stifle his initial reflex to sputter out a no.

   "We haven't," Brian says.  He laughs softly.  "I'm not sure Twiggy
dances with anyone."

   "You ought to," the customer says.  Brian watches as Jeordie gathers his
cash on stage and takes his dress backstage with him.  Jeordie has a nice
butt, Brian thinks.  In a totally straight way, Brian also thinks.

   "Maybe someday," Brian says.  He flicks his hair back over his shoulder
and sits back in the customer's lap.

   x

   "Brian, you need to be onstage in like two minutes."

   "Yeah, that's not happening."

   "Why?"

   "I have eighteen buckles on each boot."

   x

   It takes him a couple weeks, but Brian learns that he can watch Jeordie
be Twiggy and maybe want to do bad things to Twiggy but not be into
Jeordie. Twiggy looks enough like a girl that Brian decides wanting to bend
him over isn't all that gay.  Even if it was a little gay he probably
wouldn't mind.  Brian is comfortable being straight.  Marilyn is the
ambiguously queer one.

   x

   Brian steps out onto the floor in a brand new pair of six inch flatform
boots.  He's perfectly comfortable being a six foot seven image of
aggressive femininity.  He fans his face to make sure his false eyelashes
have stuck firmly to his lids and steps out to find a guy who wants some
company.

   He passes Jeordie, who's perched on the arm of a customer's chair. 
Jeordie looks him over, maybe stares a bit.  Brian looks good.  It only
makes sense that Jeordie would gawk a bit.  He winks a false lash.  Jeordie
snorts a laugh and smiles to himself like he's surprised Brian took to
cross dressing so well.

   Brian finds a client, one who's very interested in his new boots.  Foot
and shoe fetishists, Brian has learned, tip very well.  Brian sits on the
back of the couch and drapes his legs across the client's lap, letting him
fawn over them.  He sneaks a glance back over at Jeordie and his customer.

   Jeordie's standing now, his legs straddling his customer's lap as he
sways his hips.  The customer brings a hand up to touch Jeordie's waist but
he playfully swats it away and gestures for him to keep his hands to
himself.

   "Who are you watching?" Brian's client asks, peering over with him.

   "Twiggy is a friend of mine," Brian says.  "He's sexy isn't he?" It
sounded fake a week ago but Brian is starting to believe his own words now.
Yeah.  Twiggy is sexy.

   "I love his boots," the client says, which is when Brian sort of tunes
him out.  Foot and shoe fetishists, Brian has also learned, only care about
feet and shoes.

   "Why don't you kiss mine?" Brian remarks, and the client does.  Foot and
shoe fetishists are truly a wonder of nature, Brian thinks to himself.

   He peers over back at Jeordie, and his client is clearly not versed in
the etiquette of strip clubs.  The guy is clearly not aware of the no
touching rule, because Jeordie keeps removing his hands from his waist or
his hips.  Brian lowers his brows and his eyes dart around to spot a
security guard, but there isn't one.  The client pushes his hand up
Jeordie's dress.

   "Excuse me, love, but I'll be right back," Brian says, swinging his
boots over the client's head and vaulting over the back of the couch.  He
storms over, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process, shoves Jeordie
out of the way, and promptly punches the client in the face.

   "Brian," Jeordie says loudly, looking up at Brian at a very harsh angle.

   "What the fuck don't you understand about not touching in this club?"
Brian shouts in the client's face.  He's holding his jaw and staring at
him.

   "Fuck you," the client spits.  "Whores are all the same."

   "What the fuck did you just call me?" Brian yells back.  He grabs the
guy's shirt and has flung him onto the ground and gotten two more good
punches in before security and Jeordie yank him off.  Brian tries to shove
a guard off him but they get the client out before he can get free.

   "What the hell," Jeordie says, once he and security have let Brian go.
Brian is patting at his hair, making sure it's all still in place.  "You
don't have to beat a guy's ass every time he doesn't understand personal
space."

   "I do when it's your personal space," Brian says firmly.  He brings a
careful finger to his eyelid.  "Are my eyelashes still on?"

   "I can't believe you," Jeordie says, but he's laughing, and Brian
smiles. "Sorry I used your real name by the way."

   "Please," Brian scoffs.  "As if I care.  If you'll excuse me I have a
boot fetishist to attend to." He strolls back over to the couch and lays
his long legs back across his clients lap.  Jeordie stays stood there,
staring, as Brian smiles over the back of the couch at him.

   x

   Brian never thought he'd be at a strip club before noon, yet here he is.

   He's here early with Jeordie, who's very attached to his cup of coffee.
Jeordie isn't usually awake before three, but he's doing Brian a favor. 
Jeordie is an encyclopedia of pole tricks.  Brian is not.  Brian wants to
learn inversions.  Jeordie has sort of reluctantly agreed to teach him some
things under the stipulation that Brian buy him coffee.  So Jeordie is
nursing his coffee and Brian is taking off his fur coat, waiting for
Jeordie to wake up the rest of the way.  Enough to spin without falling off
the pole.

   "You alright with me staying in this dress?" Jeordie asks, reluctantly
removing his coat.  He's wearing one of his little shift dresses, the green
one, with tights, as usual.  Brian looks off to the side, considering it
briefly.  This is Jeordie, not Twiggy.  Brian just has to be careful to not
want to fuck Jeordie.

   "Whatever, man," Brian says, sitting down and sipping his tea.  Brian
doesn't drink coffee.

   "Cool," Jeordie sighs.  He takes another drink of coffee and sets it on
the edge of the stage.  "So inversions are pretty simple.  It's just a
matter of getting your legs over your center of gravity." Brian nods as
Jeordie hops up onto the stage, dusting his hands off on his dress.  "You
basically just grab the pole like this-" Jeordie grips the pole with his
right hand about eye level and the other above his head "-and then just
kinda fuckin'." He sort of just swings a leg up and drops his head back and
kicks his legs up and over, out on either side of the pole, then crosses
them around it.  He looks back over at Brian, his mess of dreads hanging as
he asks, "Got that?"

   "Not at all," Brian says.

   "I'm a horrible teacher," Jeordie says, still squeezing the pole with
his thighs and hanging there inverted.  Brian swallows thickly.  Jeordie's
dress has ridden up and he can see the thicker part of the material high on
his thighs.  He unfolds himself from the pole and Brian sighs, maybe a tiny
bit relieved.  "I'll do it again.  I'll see if I can do it slower." Jeordie
cracks his knuckles, grips the pole, and repeats himself, swinging himself
into the inversion just as quickly as he had before.  Only this time the
pole spins a bit and Jeordie's dress falls enough to show just a bit of his
bum and the gusset of his tights.  Brian bites into black nail polish.

   "I guess I can try," Brian says.  "I may as well."

   "Yeah," Jeordie says.  He slides down the pole till he's laying on the
floor, looking up at Brian as he steps over to the pole in his practice
pleather shorts.  "You look really tall from this angle," Jeordie adds.

   "C'mere," Brian says, cracking a smile wide enough that he feels his lip
ring hit his tooth.  He pulls Jeordie upright and Jeordie takes a couple
steps back as Brian grabs the pole.

   "Grip really-" tight, Jeordie starts to say, but Brian has already swung
his legs out from under himself and slid down the pole and fallen directly
on his bottom.

   "Motherfucker," Brian mumbles, rubbing his ass with one hand and pulling
himself up by the pole with the other as Jeordie cackles.  "Shut up
Jeordie."

   "Sorry," Jeordie says, laughing through his hands.  "I did that the
first couple times too."

   "Couple?" Brian asks, pouting.  "Shit, man.  I can't afford bruises on
my ass."

   "Some guys are into that," Jeordie says, shrugging.  "Give it another
go. If you want I can go grab a couch cushion."

   "I'm not gonna use a fucking landing pad," Brian scoffs.  He huffs once,
grabs the pole again, squeezes, and drops his head back as he kicks a leg
out.  He's sure it doesn't look very graceful, but he manages, and he only
slides a tiny bit.  He twists his legs around the pole and looks to Jeordie
for approval as the pole spins a tiny bit.

   "Nice," Jeordie says.  "You have the most awkward legs on earth but I
mean, nice."

   "How do I get down?" Brian asks, looking at the floor above his head.

   "Do the same thing you just did but backwards," Jeordie says.  Brian
swears inwardly, trying to untangle his legs.  "Or just slide down till you
land on your back and then lay on the floor and do some sexy shit like I
do."

   Brian carefully, gently, loosens his grip on the pole enough to slide
down, slowly, his shoulders touching the floor first.  He brings his legs
down, relaxes into the floor, and sighs exasperatedly.  "Fuck, man. 
Inversions are hard."

   "That's just a simple one," Jeordie says.  "Sorry babe." Brian gestures
his middle finger at him, rubbing his face.

   "This is why you get top billing," Brian says.  "And why I usually stick
to floor.  Because I suck at pole work."

   "You don't suck," Jeordie says.  "You're just new at it." He smiles a
smeared lipstick grin and Brian sighs.  Fuck.  Did he just get a butterfly?
Nope, can't be that.  He's just feeling dizzy from being upside down.  "Do
you want to see another inversion?"

   "I guess," Brian says, gathering himself off the floor.  He dusts off
his bum.  "Don't do too much crazy shit.  I just bought you coffee and I'd
hate for you to puke it up."

   "I'll be fine," Jeordie says.  "This one is kinda different because you
leave your legs out." He grabs the pole the same way as before and lifts
his legs out from under him, out to either side of the pole.  His dress
falls and Brian almost spits out his tea as he takes in what may be the
most glorious sight of his life: Jeordie - no, Twiggy, with his thin little
legs kicked out and his ass up and panties showing through his sheer
tights. Twiggy.  Because Brian wants to shove his face in his ass.  No,
Marilyn does.  Wait.  Shit.

   "Nice," Brian says stupidly, his shorts suddenly becoming very
constricting.

   "Kinda hurts the balls though if you hit the pole with your crotch,"
Jeordie says, squeezing his thighs around the pole and straightening
himself out so he's parallel to the floor, propping his torso up with his
hands.  "This is pretty cool too.  I can't do it without my hands when I'm
wearing tights but if I have bare legs I can let go of the pole." Brian
nods, watching Jeordie somehow turn himself over and dismount.  He smooths
his dress down, smiles to himself.  Brian just sips his tea, nods, watches
Jeordie gather himself.

   "You're really good," Brian says.  "I appreciate the help.  Even if I
suck."

   "I told you you don't," Jeordie sighs, picking up his coffee and
drinking.  "You just need to practice." He shrugs.

   "Have you ever thought about doing a routine together?" Brian blurts,
before he can stop himself.  That customer's words had been stuck in his
head for the past week.  Jeordie looks at him.

   "You're saying you're okay with me touching your ass and shit?" he asks.

   "A client mentioned it and I thought it'd be fun and all," Brian says
quickly.  He sips his coffee before he can dig himself a deeper hole. 
Brian has a tendency to talk too much.

   "Oh," Jeordie says, considering it.  "Maybe we should.  It'd kinda work.
We both look like creepy goth girls." Brian snorts a laugh.

   "Yeah, if you wanted," he says.  "I think I can put up with some butt
touching." Jeordie smiles, just a tiny bit, and nods.

   "I'm such a big scary pansexual," Jeordie says.  "Coming to touch your
butt and steal your cooking vessels."

   x

   Maybe, Brian thinks, as he's sitting between John and Jeordie packing
silver glitter onto his eyelids, he's a little gay.  A little bisexual. 
Only when it comes to Jeordie.  He's not sure if there's a word for being
exclusively attracted to women and men who are named Jeordie White.

   x

   "I can't believe you're doing a double dance with the one straight guy
who works here," John says, sounding very betrayed.  Brian reckons he's a
bit jealous.

   "Brian's my best friend, okay," Jeordie says, making sure all the clips
on his garters are firmly fastened to his stockings.  "Maybe some other
time." Brian snorts, piling on another layer of black lipstick.

   "I thought queers were supposed to stick together," John says, pouting.

   "Do you guys have some sort of queer club I don't know about?" Brian
asks.  Jeordie laughs.

   "Yes, babe," he says, ruffling Brian's hair.  "We eat rainbow cupcakes
and talk shit about the straights." Brian frowns, smoothing his hair back
down.

   "Sounds fun," he says flatly.

   "I'm doing floor," John says, pulling his crop top off one shoulder and
flicking his hair before leaving.

   "I think he's mad you don't suck dick," Jeordie sighs.  He sits down in
his chair and watches Brian as he's finishing up brushing his hair out.

   "Yeah," Brian says, looking over at Jeordie.  Jeordie looks especially
good tonight, in this little red and white striped dress and torn white
stockings.  "Do any of your stockings not have holes in them?" Brian asks.
"Just wondering."

   "A couple pairs," Jeordie says, "but that's because I just bought new
ones.  They'll meet my sewing scissors very soon." He smiles.  Brian smiles
too.

   "We should go on," he says.  Jeordie stands up and grabs their coats,
offering Brian his.

   "I still think it's a little silly to put these big fur coats on when
we're going to take them off in about thirty seconds," Brian says, pulling
it on anyway and fluffing up the collar.  They'd picked them up for about
five bucks each at the local thrift shop after Jeordie had chosen their
song and decided they needed to go out in fur coats.

   "It's part of the look, dammit," Jeordie says petulantly.  He slicks on
another layer of red lipstick and smooths out his coat.  "Okay.  Let's go."

   It's not that Brian is anxious about the actual dancing part.  He's
practiced enough times to know what he's doing.  Brian isn't actually sure
why he's anxious.  He looks at Jeordie as he peeks around the curtain and
light casts in a line down his face, one dark eye ringed with black
illuminated, and Brian blinks.  Shit.  Now isn't the time, Marilyn, he
thinks to himself.  Try not to stare at Jeordie when his dress rides up
during inversions, bat your lashes at the customers, and show off your ass.
Stay in your own lane.

   Which is the plan, and the plan goes to shit approximately ten seconds
into their routine.

   Because Brian hasn't seen Twiggy this close before.  He was Jeordie when
they practiced, and now he's Twiggy.  And Brian really wants to do bad
things to Twiggy.  Well, okay, Jeordie.  Fine.  Brian wants Jeordie.  It's
just that now is a really bad time to come to this conclusion.

   Brian is walking down to the pole where Jeordie's already working, and
all he can hear is his heart and the bass pounding in his ears.

   My god sits in the back of a limousine.

   Jeordie's leaning back into the pole, and Brian reaches around and pulls
up at his skirt, giving the front row a flash of ruffled lace panties. 
Part of the plan.

   My god comes in a wrapper of cellophane.

   Brian steps around and kneels in front of Jeordie, arching his ass out
for the audience and dragging his face up Jeordie's stockings, leaving a
streak of purple lipstick.  Still part of the plan.

   My god pouts on the cover of the magazines.

   Brian stands up again, pushes Jeordie into the pole, and kisses him. 
Definitely not part of the plan.  Not at all.

   My god is a shallow little bitch trying to make a scene.

   The funny thing is, Jeordie doesn't seem to mind.  He grabs Brian's ass
with both hands and kisses him back, lipstick smearing chin and cheeks. 
Brian vaguely hears whistling, can feel the eyes on them, but everything is
Jeordie.  When he pulls away Jeordie grins at him and slips away, drops to
the floor to crawl along the stage - back to the plan.  Right.  The plan.
Brian grabs the pole and walks around it, lifts his boots off the floor
into a spin.  When he's back on the stage Jeordie is in front of him again
and he grabs Brian's face, smashes their lips together, and licks into his
mouth.

   Starfuckers.

   Brian feels as if he's been onstage for an hour already but it's only
the first chorus.  Or maybe the second chorus.  He's already lost track of
time.  All he can hear is Jeordie giggling once he pulls away.  He must
look like an idiot, gawking at Jeordie as he flips himself into an
inversion.  Brian almost hates how casual Jeordie is being right now.  But
there's a plan, and he has to follow the plan, so he does, dropping to the
edge of the stage and to the floor to tease a customer in the front row. 
He pulls the bottom hem of his slip up to his waist, just sheer lace
covering his ass now as he climbs back up to help Jeordie down.  Jeordie
drops his head back over Brian's shoulder, and Brian hears his breath,
hears him say quietly to him, louder than a whisper but low enough for just
Brian to hear.

   "Eat me out," Jeordie says.  "Right here.  I fucking dare you."

   And, well, Brian has never been one to say no to a dare.

   As soon as Jeordie is back down on his feet, he braces himself on the
pole and looks at Brian, probably not expecting him to do it.  But he
pushes Jeordie's dress up, pulls the panties down under the curve of his
bum, and kneels down to mouth purple kisses at the base of his back above
his garter belt.

   He can't help smiling to himself because Jeordie laughs.  But he licks,
long and slow, and Jeordie rocks up onto his toes.  He stands, arching,
grabs Jeordie by the hair, pulls his head to the side, and says to him,
"I'll finish that later."

   And then he finally gets back to the fucking plan.

   Now I belong.  I'm one of the chosen ones.

   The song nearly over, a very flustered looking Jeordie pulls himself up
into one last inversion and Brian collects a few bills on the stage as he
crawls along the edge.  He tucks a twenty into the waistband of his panties
and stands up, taking Jeordie's hand as they walk back to gather their
coats and go backstage.

   "What the fuck," Jeordie says, his face smeared with purple lipstick
from Brian's mouth.

   "I couldn't fucking stand there and watch you do it anymore," Brian
says, pushing his hair back out of his face.  "I thought I was straight and
then you fucking.  You're fucking." Brian is at a loss for words for maybe
the first time in his life.

   "Whatever," Jeordie says, grabbing Brian by the arm stocking and pulling
him back into the dressing room.  "I have a fucking boner and you said
you'd eat me out and now you better fucking do it."

   "I've never eaten ass before," Brian says, suddenly very sobered
watching Jeordie lay out across his vanity and arch his back as he pulls
his panties down.  The smears of purple are still there, so yeah, Brian
actually did that.  Huh.

   "Straight people are so boring," Jeordie scoffs.  "Pretend it's a pussy
then."

   Brian doesn't need to pretend anything.  It's Jeordie's ass and he's
okay with it.

   He drops his coat on the floor behind Jeordie and kneels on it, sparing
himself a quick glance to check that John isn't angrily storming in to
shout at them.  Once he's sure they're safe for now, he goes back in again.

   Of all the things that Brian has learned about Jeordie in the past two
months, it's learning his noises that he enjoys the most.

   Jeordie grabs the back of the table and purrs softly, chews his lips
together.

   "Fuck," Jeordie manages to say, and Brian laughs quietly, tongue hot and
flat over Jeordie's hole, licking steadily into him, and Jeordie's legs
shake a little.  Brian holds Jeordie's hips as he licks in earnest, and all
Jeordie can do is to swear over and over again under his breath.  "Fuck. 
Fuck.  Fuck.  Shit."

   And it's killing Brian, because all he wants to do is to fucking fuck
Jeordie into the table till he can't stand up anymore, but a promise is a
promise.

   "Oh my fucking god," Jeordie says pointedly, which is when Brian comes
up for air and sees that Jeordie is staring at himself in the fucking
mirror.

   "Are you fucking watching yourself?" Brian asks, and normally Brian
prides himself on his quick wit and eloquence, even during sex, but this is
Jeordie watching himself get eaten out here.

   "Yes," Jeordie says softly, shyly, blushing under his makeup, and
there's absolutely no way Brian can't fuck him now.

   "You fucking little slut," Brian says.  "You're gonna watch yourself get
fucked now." Jeordie grins, biting his lip.  "Provided I can find some lube
around here."

   "John has some," Jeordie says, and Brian looks at him.

   "How do you know?" Brian asks dumbly.

   "Because he wears latex and to get latex on you have to put lube on it,"
Jeordie says, as if it's obvious.  "Fucking hurry up and fuck me."

   You learn something new every day, Brian thinks, as he goes to John's
vanity and starts opening drawers.  Feather boas, glitter, sequins.  "Where
is it?" Brian asks.  Jeordie scoffs loudly and joins him at John's chair,
opening the top drawer and rifling through makeup products before producing
a bottle of water-based lube.

   "Now fuck me," Jeordie says.  Brian looks at the bottle, looks at
Jeordie bent over John's table.

   "Here?" Brian asks.

   "Yes, here," Jeordie says, and well, Brian supposes he has nothing to
lose but his job, so.

   Brian reaches into his panties to get his cock out and opens the bottle
of lube.  It's not that he hasn't given anal before, it's just that there
was never a second penis involved.  He's not sure if there's anything he
needs to worry about.  He pours lube into his hand and warms it between his
fingers before reaching down to lube Jeordie's ass.  Brian watches
Jeordie's face, watches Jeordie watching his own face, as he slides a
finger in, and fuck.  Brian doesn't even know if he can fit in here. 
Jeordie is fucking tight and he feels fucking good and if this is just a
finger he doesn't know how long he'll last.  He works the finger in, pushes
another in with it.  Jeordie sighs a soft moan and Brian grins to himself.

   "Is that good?" he asks.

   "Yeah," Jeordie says, nodding to his reflection.  Brian keeps watching
him, adds more lube, adds another finger.  Jeordie grabs at the table,
pushing back at Brian's hand.  So Brian pulls his fingers out.  "Fuck,"
Jeordie whines.

   "Do you want me to fuck you or not?" Brian remarks, getting more lube
and slicking it onto himself this time.

   "Yes," Jeordie says softly, breath hitching as he feels Brian press up
against him and slide in.

   "Watch your face," Brian says, reaching around with his dry hand to grab
Jeordie by the neck and lift his head up.  Jeordie's mouth falls open as
Brian hilts himself, hissing through gritted teeth.  It's all Brian can do
not to just go for it, but Jeordie needs the second to adjust.  He presses
his chest into Jeordie's back, hooking two fingers into his mouth and
speaking to Jeordie's reflection.  "You good?" he asks.  Jeordie nods,
closing his lips around Brian's fingers, and Brian goes.

   Maybe it's because it's been a long time coming, but Brian starts him up
quick, finding a fast pace that feels fucking amazing.  Jeordie moans
around Brian's fingers, his hands grabbing for a hold.  He knocks over a
container of glitter in the process and silver pours across the table and
Jeordie.  For a split second Brian thinks about how he's going to be
finding glitter in his pubes for weeks but he's mostly distracted by
Jeordie rocking back to fuck himself on Brian's cock.

   "Shit," Brian says, lube slick fingers trying to grab at Jeordie's ass
or his stockings or his garter belt.  Jeordie's sucking on the fingers in
his mouth and rolling his hips back into Brian's and he's sort of
overwhelmed.  Brian dicks into him quicker, grabbing one of his garter
straps for leverage.  "Keep your eyes on that mirror," he reminds Jeordie.

   "Yessir," Jeordie says around the fingers, and honestly Brian had never
pinned Jeordie for being this slutty and submissive but here he is under
him, dusted with glitter and sucking on his fingers as he gets fucked.  And
Brian isn't complaining at all.

   Brian can feel himself tense up a bit, like he's nearing his end, and as
much as he doesn't want to stop fucking Jeordie he really does want to cum.
He pulls his fingers from Jeordie's mouth and grabs his hips, fucking him
roughly.  Jeordie grabs the opposite end of the table and stares straight
into the mirror at himself, his mouth fallen open, little bits of moans
slipping out.  He's trying to be quiet.

   "Don't you dare fucking quiet yourself," Brian says.  "Let the fucking
people next door hear you but don't fucking quiet yourself."

   "Fuck!" Jeordie gasps, his legs shaking under him.  Brian helps keep him
up, still holding his hips, which is when he feels Jeordie get really
fucking tight and he groans and Brian realizes he fucking came.

   "Did you just fucking cum?" Brian asks.

   "Yes," Jeordie pants, still riding it out on Brian's cock, and that
about does it.  Brian dicks into him for only another five seconds before
he loses it too, spilling into Jeordie and growling into his back.

   Brian's head is still spinning when he pulls out.  Jeordie
unceremoniously pulls his panties up with one hand, still bent over the
glitter covered table.  John's table.  Whoops.

   "Fuck it," Jeordie says.  He picks up a handful of spilt glitter and
dusts it over his head, shaking it into his dreads.

   "What are you doing?" Brian asks, flopping back into John's chair.

   "Putting glitter in my dreads," Jeordie says, rubbing it into what
could, loosely, be called dreads.  More like a mess of unwashed hair.

   "You're gross," Brian says.  "Let's go home and smoke up."

   Brian is pretty sure that when they're leaving he hears John yell after
Twiggy, but they're in his car and gone before he can scold them properly.

   x

   Brian loves Jeordie, and that's okay.  When they're onstage and they're
Marilyn and Twiggy, Marilyn still loves Twiggy.  And when they're at home
smoking weed on the couch exchanging blowjobs and spitting insults at each
other, Jeordie loves Brian a little bit too.