wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, polished loafers, and a tie with a perfect Windsor knot. He looked like a cover model for GQ .
“I liked you a lot better in those leather pants,” she remarked, softening her tone.
“I liked you a lot better in yours, too,” he responded. “And that wasn’t me, actually, it was Jasmine.”
“Yeah. Jasmine...” This time when Sloan said the name her tone was not accusatory, but appreciative. “I suppose you know you...she...had me going the other night.”
“I know.” Jason blushed. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought a dance would be okay. I’m sorry.”
“It should have been okay,” Sloan admitted. “It wasn’t Jasmine’s fault that I jumped to conclusions. A dance is a dance—not foreplay.”
“No,” he said. “I should have realized, but it was so good—just to be able to relax. I forgot how Jasmine would seem...”
Sloan remembered how quietly he had said that, a slightly wistful tone in his voice. She had no idea why he’d trusted her, but he had. She glanced at Michael, wondering if she would understand. Michael’s sympathetic smile encouraged her to continue.
“He explained to me that he was straight, which is why he didn’t go dressed to a men’s bar like most of the drag queens. He wasn’t interested in picking up men and was afraid there’d be trouble if he refused someone’s advances. At least in a mixed bar, where there were women, too, Jasmine would fit in, and she could always say no if a woman came on to her.”
“But Jasmine danced with you,” Michael observed, not critically, merely with interest.
“That was unusual, apparently.” Sloan grinned, recalling that she had had to ask three times before Jasmine finally agreed. “I was...persistent. As I recall, I did say to her it was only a dance.”
“My God, how difficult that must be for him,” Michael murmured. “It would be so much easier if he were gay.”
Sloan was surprised at how easily Michael grasped Jason’s dilemma. Jason could date straight women, but then how would he explain Jasmine? When dressed as Jasmine, expressing himself as Jasmine, he appeared physically female, but he did not want to attract men. He ran the risk that whoever might be attracted to him would be repulsed when they discovered his particular form of self-expression.
“He hasn’t had an easy time,” Sloan agreed. She didn’t think it was her place to tell Michael that Sarah and Jason were going to the AIDS benefit on their first date. She trusted Sarah to be able to handle the situation, but she wasn’t at all certain that Jason could. He was too used to hiding and too used to anticipating rejection. She wasn’t certain he would be able to recognize true affection when he found it. “So, Sarah, Jason... and Jasmine...and I will all be there.”
As Sloan spoke, Michael pulled the small slip of paper from her stale fortune cookie and read to herself, “‘You will find happiness in the most unexpected place.’”
“Please, join us,” Sloan insisted. “I’d like that very much.”
Michael nodded, realizing that she wanted to do that more than she had wanted anything in a very long time. Curling the tiny fortune into her palm, she said, “Yes, so would I.”
Chapter Eight
When Michael answered the knock on her hotel room door at exactly 7:00 Friday night, she was momentarily speechless. Sloan stood before her, dashingly turned out in a finely tailored charcoal pin-striped tuxedo, complete with a pleated white shirt, French cuffs, a navy cummerbund, and white bowtie.
“You look...magnificent,” Michael said, laughing as Sloan responded with a small bow.
“And you look...” Sloan searched for words, mesmerized by the vision of Michael in a black silk dress that hugged her sleek figure, thin straps at the shoulders accentuating the low sweep of a clinging bodice that exposed a tantalizing expanse of décolletage. The soft swell of her breasts was just a promise beneath
“I liked you a lot better in those leather pants,” she remarked, softening her tone.
“I liked you a lot better in yours, too,” he responded. “And that wasn’t me, actually, it was Jasmine.”
“Yeah. Jasmine...” This time when Sloan said the name her tone was not accusatory, but appreciative. “I suppose you know you...she...had me going the other night.”
“I know.” Jason blushed. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought a dance would be okay. I’m sorry.”
“It should have been okay,” Sloan admitted. “It wasn’t Jasmine’s fault that I jumped to conclusions. A dance is a dance—not foreplay.”
“No,” he said. “I should have realized, but it was so good—just to be able to relax. I forgot how Jasmine would seem...”
Sloan remembered how quietly he had said that, a slightly wistful tone in his voice. She had no idea why he’d trusted her, but he had. She glanced at Michael, wondering if she would understand. Michael’s sympathetic smile encouraged her to continue.
“He explained to me that he was straight, which is why he didn’t go dressed to a men’s bar like most of the drag queens. He wasn’t interested in picking up men and was afraid there’d be trouble if he refused someone’s advances. At least in a mixed bar, where there were women, too, Jasmine would fit in, and she could always say no if a woman came on to her.”
“But Jasmine danced with you,” Michael observed, not critically, merely with interest.
“That was unusual, apparently.” Sloan grinned, recalling that she had had to ask three times before Jasmine finally agreed. “I was...persistent. As I recall, I did say to her it was only a dance.”
“My God, how difficult that must be for him,” Michael murmured. “It would be so much easier if he were gay.”
Sloan was surprised at how easily Michael grasped Jason’s dilemma. Jason could date straight women, but then how would he explain Jasmine? When dressed as Jasmine, expressing himself as Jasmine, he appeared physically female, but he did not want to attract men. He ran the risk that whoever might be attracted to him would be repulsed when they discovered his particular form of self-expression.
“He hasn’t had an easy time,” Sloan agreed. She didn’t think it was her place to tell Michael that Sarah and Jason were going to the AIDS benefit on their first date. She trusted Sarah to be able to handle the situation, but she wasn’t at all certain that Jason could. He was too used to hiding and too used to anticipating rejection. She wasn’t certain he would be able to recognize true affection when he found it. “So, Sarah, Jason... and Jasmine...and I will all be there.”
As Sloan spoke, Michael pulled the small slip of paper from her stale fortune cookie and read to herself, “‘You will find happiness in the most unexpected place.’”
“Please, join us,” Sloan insisted. “I’d like that very much.”
Michael nodded, realizing that she wanted to do that more than she had wanted anything in a very long time. Curling the tiny fortune into her palm, she said, “Yes, so would I.”
Chapter Eight
When Michael answered the knock on her hotel room door at exactly 7:00 Friday night, she was momentarily speechless. Sloan stood before her, dashingly turned out in a finely tailored charcoal pin-striped tuxedo, complete with a pleated white shirt, French cuffs, a navy cummerbund, and white bowtie.
“You look...magnificent,” Michael said, laughing as Sloan responded with a small bow.
“And you look...” Sloan searched for words, mesmerized by the vision of Michael in a black silk dress that hugged her sleek figure, thin straps at the shoulders accentuating the low sweep of a clinging bodice that exposed a tantalizing expanse of décolletage. The soft swell of her breasts was just a promise beneath
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