dragged... (Part 11)

           Queen Of The Damned

When Maddox didn’t come home, it didn’t surprise me in the least, because he was like so many other men; even though they had something sacred and wonderful at home, they always wanted that something out in the streets that was going to put up with and do any vile thing with their dick that they desired be done.  Sunny was a carbon copy of her open-up-the-legs mama who did anything for a dolla; she’d let him smack it up flip it and rub it down in all positions as long as it quenched her unequivocal thirst.

I sat in front of my vanity mirror within the sanctity of my room, gazing at my reflection as if it was a stranger staring back at me.  I used to be this amazing peacock, colorful and prideful, confident and hopeful, but now I was just a shell of the beauty queen I used to be.  I had been dressing in drag for the last ten years of my life, and there I was out of costume and out of creativity. 

I used to use my face as a canvass and create some of the most breathtaking illusions with precise strokes without hesitation; however, I no longer had the desire to bring Elixir Calhoun back to life.  As far as I was concerned, she had died up on that stage a few hours ago, and it would take a miracle to resurrect her again, and I was fresh out of them.  God had abandoned me, and his grace had spiraled down and missed me totally. 

Missouri Meadows didn’t even know what she was getting herself into cavorting with that Male Minx.  I had seen Sunny in action and her befriend them and destroy them act had been a ploy that she had no qualms about using to advance her stagnant career.  The reason her career always stalled was because every time she managed to make it into center ring, her nasty attitude and hellacious demands would always drive the fans away. 

The key to any entertainer’s success is always built on a foundation of humbleness and humility, but her pathological and devious actions such as lying; hitting, kicking, biting and scratching always sent the fans and peers packing.  She was a walking disaster who wreaked havoc on any and everyone she encountered.  Nobody liked being around her, and Maddox would soon discover that his good looks and dick were only distractions.  Once she was through with him, she was going to dispel him like Louisiana trash.

That was his problem though, because I had tried to be everything for him, and if that weren’t enough I didn’t have anything more to give.  I remember the first time we met in that shoe-store that he worked at.  I asked him for a size 12 shoe, and he looked at me in disbelief and joked about how big my feet were. 

“Damn, mama, you sure do have some big ass feet for a beautiful lady,” he told me. 

Now, you know I was insulted. 

“I don’t need no commentary, handsome, just retrieve the stilettos I asked for or I’ll be forced to report you to your manager,” I told him, smitten by his charm and good looks. 

He shook his head, stood up from his kneeling position, and did as I asked.  When he took the red and silver stilettos from their box, he held them up, inspected them, and through the opening of the ankle strap, he looked at me, winked, and said “A lady with good taste is always a welcome patron at the store I manage.” 

I turned my head away, and slapped my knees, embarrassed at the fact that I didn’t know he was the manager of the establishment, but I was never anyone to play games with people’s lives, so I told him up front that I was only an illusion.  His response was that we were all illusions of life, as far away from the creater’s original mold as we could be. 

He asked me out on a date and I happily accepted. 

I had never met a man like him, and still had never met a man like him; he was masculine, strong, and self-assured.  From day one there were never any limitations in the bedroom he was both receiver and giver without any qualms. He broke the stereotypical role of the masculine man because he would lie on his back and take the beef with the best of them, and I loved him for his unselfishness, but it seemed that our five year run was ending. 

I could never look at him the same, knowing that he had slept with her, the wickedest bitch on the face of the earth.  There was no telling what disease he’d get fooling around with that nasty ass bitch.  In a strange way I didn’t blame him, because I knew how persuasive and persistent she could be, but that didn’t mean that I could forgive him.  It took two to tangle and the moment he danced with that devil our waltz was over. 

So now, here I was empty inside as I had ever been in life, and I felt powerless to stop my spiraling decent into oblivion.  I knew I was feeling sorry for myself and that I was the only one who was suffering, but I didn’t know which way to go to pull it all together again.  As I looked at my male reflection he was someone as foreign to me as the moment I was in. 

His eyes were ugly to me because they didn’t have the sparkle of eye shadow or the intensity of light liner.  My face without blush or foundation looked as bland as a white canvass without any paint, and I wondered how I was going to exist in the world without the mask that I had worn for so long, but I felt as if I needed to be as naked as I was when I first entered the world to rise again. 

In time, I knew that my feathers would grow back and that I would soar again, but for now I was grounded and it was the best place for me to be, until I had enough grace to fly again. 

For now, it was goodbye Elixir Calhoun and hello again, Alex Johnson…

Alex Johnson from Oakland California…