Once inside, he said, “I think I like you in feather boas. Maybe we’ll figure out a style for you in the future. I’ll wear purple, and you’ll wear…what’s your favorite color?”
I followed him to the curtained-off bedroom area before answering, “I don’t know. I like them all, I guess.” I sat on the bed and watched as he stripped away all the layers he wore when he was Lucille. “You wear all that stuff for hours on end?” I asked, shaking my head at how much work it must be to dress up like that every night, and in heels, no less.
“I do. It looks authentic, and I have an image to uphold.” He sat on the bed next to me to remove the pantyhose. “I will say that in the summer time, it’s not always comfortable. But that’s what miniskirts are for.”
I laughed and fell back on the bed. “You’re shameless.”
“Yes, I am. I thought you knew this about me by now. How many years did I brazenly throw myself at you?” he asked as he got up and went into the bathroom to remove his makeup and wig.