The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2) - Page 199

He didn’t even flinch.

“Mike, now is the time you walk away unless you want to see what your blood looks like on my hands.”

“Easy, princess.” He patted me on the arm. If I’d have been the type of drag queen that carried a sword, he would have had one less limb to worry about. Luckily for him, I was not that type of drag queen.

Yet.

“I know what’s at stake,” I said coolly. “If you’d done your job with the Super Gays, we wouldn’t even have to be worrying about this right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t always depend on the Super Gays, Helena, no matter how much you believe in them. They can be kind and giving, but they can also be cheap-ass motherfuckers, just like everyone else.”

“Maybe if you’d sucked on their cocks a little more—”

“I have standards, princess. I don’t just swallow down every Tom, Dick, and hairy-chested man that comes around.”

“That wasn’t witty,” I said. “Also, you should get out of my sight. I’m preparing. Leave, before I have you thrown out. Tonight I will not be slighted by one such as you.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s my club and you might do well to remember that.”

I patted him on the cheek. “It’s funny how you still think that. Move along, Mike. I don’t have time for you anymore.”

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and murmured “good luck” in my ear. Because regardless of how antagonistic our relationship was, we did care about each other, even if we didn’t really show it. I knew that moment I’d laid eyes on him the first time that one day either he or I would end up murdering each other. It was inevitable.

THE IDEA was that each queen would present their own homo jocks. I was in charge of overseeing the entire show, but each queen would get at least a few minutes in the spotlight to present their charges. We’d thought about letting each of the homo jocks do their own little performance, but nixed that because it would have probably taken too long. And also, I wanted people to actually bid on them and not be frightened away when the homo jocks tried to lip-synch and dance at the same time. I didn’t think the world was ready for such horrors.

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening when I took the stage. The room was packed wall-to-wall, with barely any room to move, the most crowded I’d ever seen it. I thought it was possible we were over capacity, but knowing Mike, he’d probably greased a few palms to have the fire marshal look the other way for the night in exchange for a go-go boy or two.

The spotlights were blinding as the crowd screamed my name. I glanced toward the balcony briefly, seeing the silhouette of Kori and Charlie. Kori waggled her fingers down at me and I winked back up at her as I let my people worship me.

One of the barbacks, clad only in a tiny pair of shorts that were apparently designed to show off his balls, handed me a microphone and a shot of tequila, courtesy of my straight bartender dream. I knocked it back, much to the delight of the crowd. I never really understood why they enjoyed seeing a queen drink so much, but I wasn’t one to deny them whatever they wanted.

Within reason, of course.

Also, tequila was delicious and made me feel happy.

I handed the shot glass back to the barback and smacked his ass as he walked away. He grinned at me over his shoulder and I thought he’d probably graduated high school within the last year or so, and that made me feel old as fuck.

“Helena,” Charlie said into a mic of his own, sounding like God speaking from above. Well, if God was an elderly leather Dom.

“Shh,” I said to the crowd. “Shh, shh, shh. Daddy’s talking. And you know when Daddy talks, we must listen.”

They quieted down, most of them turning toward the balcony. Most regulars knew who Daddy Charlie was, that he was a goddamned treasure and deserved to be treated as such.

The DJ lowered the music.

“Yes, Daddy?” I asked.

“I hear there’s a big to-do going on tonight.”

“Did you, Daddy. Is that what you heard?” I breathed heavily into the microphone. “Tell me more.”

“I also heard you have some men backstage.”

“Some men,” I moaned. “You heard that too? Silly Daddy, when do I not have men backstage? I have… needs. I am a handful after all.”

People screamed in agreement as I rolled my hips, thrusting toward the audience.

“Not those kinds of needs,” Daddy said dryly. “Besides, I also he

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