Page 48 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

We walktowards the subway station, both hiding our work attire underneath hoodies and sweats, looking like we’re getting ready to head into the ring for a heavyweight bout. The subways are generally less crowded around this time—after the Friday rush hour and before the party crowd seeps into the city.

I’m pleased to see our friend with the lizard is also aboard. We ride this line with them often, and as always, the G-string and lizard complete their look. They stroll down the aisle and stop in front of us, plopping down into the seat across from us with quite the spread.

“Sup,” they say. “I’ve seen you two before. I watch you guys. Keep you safe. Make sure none of these fucko pervs mess with you. My lizard, Jamie, and I deem you worthy of our protection. So long as we’re riding, you shall both be safe. Shalom.” Normally, a stranger saying they watch you would warrant fear and pepper spray, but generally they keep to themselves. Plus, two weeks ago they definitely started barking at some drunk guy who was leering at us after work.

All this to say, this person and their lizard are the least of our concerns.

“Jamie! Excellent name. May we know the name of our protector as well?” Daphne is smiling huge right now.

“My friends call me Medium Rare, but you two lovely ladies may refer to me as Stacey.”

“Are we not your friends, Stacey?” Daphne pouts, feigning sadness.

“No, no, no. You are two of my closest companions. I don’t offer this safety to just anyone, I’m far too busy. Stacey ismy government name. Meant for official business, emergencies, etcetera, etcetera…” They trail off.

I’m not about to question that this is our first ever verbal interaction with Stacey, because they genuinely seem like a lovely, maybe eccentric, person. I’m smiling so big my cheeks are hurting as we chat about Jamie’s mood swings and Stacey’s preference for weather.

We approach our stop and Stacey produces two trimmed roses out of seemingly thin air. As you can imagine, the G-string doesn’t leave much room for pockets. Stacey leans over, offering Jamie for a gentle head rub and bids us farewell. We climb the dank steps up to the street level and emerge as a light drizzle begins overhead.

“I’m so glad we finally know Stacey’s name now. Lizard G-String is a mouthful,” I say to Daphne as we speed walk towards the club attempting to dodge the rain drops.

The bar isbusy and the closer we get to Halloween, the more fun the shifts are. Or at least as fun as they can be when you’re working in the service industry. Tonight’s show is a lineup of local drag queens, and the girlies, gays, and theys truly show out to support them. The lights flicker, signaling the first queen is set to come out soon and Daphne returns with a clean rack of cowboy boot glasses.

The stage is framed in vintage glamour, with heavy red velvet draping and big, bright bulbs lining the front of it. Behind Daphne’s bar sits a neon sign,Y’all Means All, and horse shoes are laden in the wood of the bar top. Camouflaged-clothed bar bar stools line the bars and a rainbow disco ball slowly rotatesabove the crowd. It’s a clash of color and chaos, but it works so well.

Working the same bar with Daphne tonight reminds me how much I love her. I’ve been so caught up in my own stress, we’ve hardly had any time to spend time together.

It’s so easy to be around her and have fun. Like right now, as I watch her pull a businessman by his tie and demand he call her “Mommy” while I pour tequila shots in his mouth. Dream team. We’re giggling and it reminds me of the many sleepovers we spent at her house, acting a fool until her mom would come out and ask us if we had any idea what time it was.

Another stiff looking type pulls up on the bar and practically whimpers when Daphne points a red stiletto nail towards him. She’s not told me explicitly she’s a Domme, but she runs shit like one. She tends to be more dominant in her relationships with men, and I think we’re both similar in being switches with women.

Daphne does her song and dance with the guy and he slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the bar tap before leaving dazed and covered in dark red lipstick prints. Shit, maybe I need to start spanking men or something. Regardless, this busy shift at the bar has significantly improved my mood and offered a much needed distraction from the crushing weight of existence.

Closingtime rolls around at two in the morning and by two forty-five, we’re readying to leave. The manager ordered us tacos for a job well done, so we pack up the leftovers we stashed and head out. Daphne and I make our way through the side door of the club when we spot a giant shadow leaning against the brick wall.

“I don’t fucking think so!” Daphne screams, yanking out her neon pink taser and setting it off.

The shadowy figure has the nerve to start…laughing? Are we seriously about to get mugged by this fucking goober? The minimal street light slowly illuminates none other than Wesley motherfucking Hawthorne.

“Wes, you nearly gave us a heart attack. What if Daph tased you?” I shout while also smashing into him for a kiss because I missed him.

He laughs like he wasn’t about to become a sexy barbecued cowboy. “I guess I would’ve deserved it for lurking in the shadows. I was going for ‘aw my boyfriend surprised me’, though I can see now it was leaning a bit moreLaw & Orderfor my liking. Sorry y’all.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Daphne asks, as I continue smooching said boyfriend.

“For now.” He smirks. “Come along ladies. I’ll get us home.”

I lock eyes with Daphne behind Wes’ back and our huge grins match.

THIRTY-SEVEN

in this house, we support spit kink!

Dahlia

Wes wasable to somehow locate a parking spot on our block and he parks while giving regal princess waves for his accomplishment. Our neighbors have started putting up Halloween decorations, and I love seeing all the pumpkin and bat door signs. It’s crazy how close I am to finishing my final semester and thesis. Hopefully we’ll be hearing about the grant any day now and that will be the cherry on top.

Daphne makes a beeline for her bedroom, but not before making a show of strapping her headphones to her head and gesturing she’ll be playing loud music. Wes coughs into his hand, smothering a laugh and I playfully smack his chest.