Dirty Drag 3: Beyond The Drag by Kyle Adams Page B

he was the one with a boob to save. As they stood waiting for their food, their sides pressing together, Ashley basked in Rick’s embrace enjoying the comfort and intimacy. He was delighted with the knowledge that Rick liked touching him, because he definitely liked to be touched by Rick. Rick’s hand never lost contact with Ashley’s back. He was continuously rubbing small circles or just letting it rest on his lower back, until Rick needed his hands to carry the tray of flavorful smelling food back to their table.
    They were back in the booth, sitting with the food on the table in front of them when Rick asked, “So, what did you do to that kid?”
    Ashley feigned a reaction of appalled shock and was about to ask why Rick would insinuate such things but he came up with a better question. “How bad do you want to know?” Rick raised a questioning eyebrow that Ashley took to mean, ‘I’m not answering that.’ Ashley shrugged and continued on, “Well,” he folded his hands on the table in front of him, “it seems we each have something the other wants.” He used his most sinistery villain’s voice, which sounded more like he had a sore throat than anything else. “Tell me what you’ve done with Lucy, and I’ll give you the information you seek.” Ashley grabbed a fry, dipped it in his rich gravy, and then took an exaggerated bite in an attempt to show his fierceness.
    Rick just watched him, patiently. Ashley could tell he was trying hard not to burst out laughing, probably so he wouldn’t draw more attention than they were already getting. “Who is Lucy?” He asked, before wrapping his lips around a spoonful of his Blizzard, a little bit of ice cream dribbled down from the corner of his mouth.
    Ashley had a hard time focusing as he watched Rick wipe away the drips with his tongue, but he finally managed to say, “Lucy is my left boob, which you’re currently holding hostage. That is why you brought me here, isn’t it? To commence negotiations?”
    “You named your breast pads? Why Lucy?” Rick said, taking a bite of his burger.
    Ashley finished chewing the fry he was enjoying before answering. “Lefty Lucy,” he said, drawing it out so it sounded more like loose-y and following it up with, “Duh.”
    Rick shook his head, laughing quietly before asking, “Do I want to know what you named the right one?”
    Ashley pretended to consider that for a minute, “Probably not.”
    Rick leaned forward, “Tell me anyway.”
    “Righty Tighty, because it is perky and tight, and not much else rhymes with righty that makes any sense.” Ashley thought about what he’d said, “Or as much sense as a man naming his fake breasts can make.”
    “You’re a nut.” Rick said teasingly, taking another big bite of his juicy burger.
    Ashley ripped one of his succulent chicken fingers in half and thought about what Rick said. “I think if I was a nut, I’d be a chest nut.” After a few seconds, he quickly added, “No pun intended.”
    “Because they have a prickly shell you have to break before you can peel back the skin to even get to the edible part?”
    “No, because they taste fu--” Ashley paused and looked around at the other guests, “absolutely delicious.”
    Rick had been displaying a dazzling smile when his expression went blank. “So are you ever not in drag?” He wasn’t condescending or judgmental, or meaning to be cruel. He asked it out of sincere curiosity.
    The question still felt like an accusation and was a shock to Ashley. He didn’t think he could have been more surprised if, out-of-the-blue, Rick reached across the table and bitch slapped him. No longer hungry, yet feeling the need to defend himself, Ashley dropped his fry back in the box and placed his shaking hands in his lap so Rick wouldn’t see them. When they said goodbye Saturday morning, Ashley had pointed out a few of his own flaws, wanting to prevent awkward dating if he wasn’t what Rick was looking for in a