Bee's Wing

He was a rare thing Fine as a beeswing So fine a breath of wind might blow him away He was a lost child He was running wild, he said As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay And you wouldn’t want me any other way © “Fuck, guys! Let me pass!” Hunter, with dark eyes and bleached hair, draws eyeliner on a nameless newcomer boy. You are trying to squeeze through them to get to the shabby bathroom. The Fairy Tail nightclub sparkles falsely for guests only, but its true face is this filthy bathroom. “I’m in a hurry! Come on, guys!” “New fucker, Curtis?” Hunter asks. He’s as much Hunter as you are Curtis, but who cares. “Your brunette is not disgusted to fuck you after all of them, is he?” You squint suspiciously, wondering what Hunter might know. Everyone in this nightclub saw you and Mickey kissing in the middle of the hall. Now they whistle and grin every time they see him again, considering him to be another obsessed boyfriend, just like those who appear for every dancer here from time to time. No one has yet figured out that he’s only hanging out among the guests to look for another lucky guy, who is gullible enough to pay you for extra pleasures. Mickey’s idea to rob old fags in that wealthy hotel had been a mess. Some dude did not get scared by Mickey’s threats and laughed back, then tried to call the hotel security. Mickey hit him over the head with a lamp, pushed him into the bathroom, and locked him in. You and Mickey turned your tails and managed to snatch the dude’s wallet from the pocket of his jacket. You still see the hotel’s corridors and back stairs flash in front of your eyes. Even now, the memories make your pulse quicken. Damn money was still needed. Fiona fucked up, bills are piling up, Liam has heaps of medical bills, and Svetlana is as unpredictable as the Soviets in Cuba. Now you and Mickey turn your own tricks, and quietly fuck the snickering club owners up since they hypocritically forbid dancers to hook, but can’t see further than their own dicks. You both feel invulnerable. This thought makes you laugh loudly. “I’m not like you! I’m different!” A thin stream of water flows from a rusting tap. You rub your eyes for a long minute and examine the black streaks of mascara on your fingers. An ugly whisper in your head repeats the words of dumbass Hunter. But he is wrong! Mickey should undoubtedly feel as if you are fucking him like doomsday will come in ten minutes, and you are not just getting off, climaxing with Mickey is like an explosion, and stars flash under your closed eyelids. When you’re leaving the bathroom, there is no one else in the dressing room. You hastily dab your face with someone else’s towel and fix your wrecked eyeliner. You switch instantly. Feeling great and ready for your next adventure. The night’s unexpected Svetlana call made Mickey get out quickly, to fix an extraordinary shit storm in his brothel above the Alibi Room. Just before, he set his cap at some harmless geriatric viagroid who seems to be a newcomer. But one of your regulars, Alex, has ordered a dance for his friends in the private room. “This is the worst anniversary ever!” His friend didn’t stop smoothing his long thinning hair while you settled on his lap. “We have been together for twenty years, and you are as boring as on the first day!” His husband lamented. You freeze like your old phone, which was bought in a shop not afraid to sell stolen goods. These two dudes have been together for twenty years, and this is longer than you’ve lived in the world. You probably said it out loud, because after being treated with a fancy cocktail, you were invited to join the party for the whole night. The door is opened already, but you slam it shut again, deciding to piss into Hunter’s locker to screw all of his dancing clothes up. Roger silently opens the massive door of the private room. It closes behind your back, and immediately extinguishes the roar of the hall. A piece of completely different music is played here. “Oh, I love this song!” You shout, throwing your head back. You make several smooth movements without a peep. Your body feels like it fills with bubbles, and you are like the champagne that’s standing on a low table in the middle of the room. All eyes are immediately directed at you. They are full of lust, and your cock twitches under the tight shiny shorts. Alex hands you a vial of Gina [1]. He comes to the Fairy Tail regularly, but not too often. Never stingy, paying for this dance, he certainly gives a little more than required, he puts the money in your hand, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t paw a lot either, usually less than the others. You dash your eyes across the drinks on the table, searching for water or juice. But there are only empty champagne bottles around. So you simply pour the contents of the vial onto your tongue and feel the taste of seawater in your mouth, although you have never seen the sea. You’re horny, even without Gina. Sex is the thing you do best in your life. They say on the internet, you should find a favorite thing, and be amazing at it. You top frenziedly, and bottom insatiably. But everything feels more fun on Gina. It helps to split, to fall apart under the other’s hands. You change like pictures in a kaleidoscope. You had such a toy when you were a kid. Monica bought one for little Fiona when she finally returned home from a foster family, where she was taken by social services. You loved this toy, even though it was broken by Monica kicked Frank while she was high and he was drunk. The colored glass was broken, and as soon as the old kaleidoscope was twisted, black holes appeared in the pictures here and there. The husbands celebrating their anniversary continue to drink and have fun. You dance in the crossfire of spotlights, while their guests have become generous and shove money into the belt of your shorts. You let them grope you. Their greedy touches excite you. What they are doing in your mouth, in the niche behind the curtain, you feel their animal delight, and it fills you with an intoxicating energy. You are the lord of the lascivious Grandpas. You are Super-Curtis! One of the husbands, the guy with the unruly hair, asks you to accompany him to freshen up. He splashes water in his face in an empty bathroom. You fold your lips in a bow like a child, while simultaneously raising one eyebrow like an adult. You do not know how it looks, but your clients are always thrilled. He doesn’t make a pass. You should get confused, but then you forget about the shaggy guy, as soon as you notice Mickey, who unexpectedly returned to the nightclub. He’s rough and grumbles about your coked-out ass. You want to kiss him, but there is still a phantom taste of the other dudes’ sperm in your mouth. The hall suddenly revolves around you like a carousel. It’s hard to breathe, as if you ran thirty blocks with a heavy backpack. But the backpack is not on your back, it’s in front, and presses on your chest. “Too many party favors.” You hear the voice of the shaggy guy as if spoken through cotton wool. “Okay-okay, he can get some rest in our room until the end of his shift.” You let them take you back to a private room, and lay down on a sofa in a niche behind the curtain. Shaggy guy asks Alex to order mineral water. “You’re trembling.” And again his voice at the ear. The jacket he throws over your naked body tingles your skin. Mickey is here too, hanging over you. He fumes like he had a cauldron on fire inside him. “Cool party, Mick!” You look at him from the bottom up with your pearl drunk eyes. You hand him crumpled banknotes. In any case, he will give them all to Svetlana. The commie bitch keeps threatening to snitch Terry. You heard everything, although Mickey doesn’t know it. But Svetlana needs to take care of Ev-what’s-his-damn-name. The little dude has blue eyes just like Mickey, but his hair is blonde like Colin’s. Interestingly, you wonder if could Svetlana get pregnant from both at once? You should google it… “Relax.” Shaggy guy whispers. “Relax.” You open your heavy eyelids, and see him bending over you. He caresses your shoulders through the dense fabric of his own jacket, touches your hair on the back of your head. His palms are large and soft. You stick like a fly in jelly. But you do not miss the moment when his caress becomes more depraved. “I usually take four hundred.” Your smile is obscenely shy. “But since it’s your anniversary, I’ll do it for two.” Of course, you never take four hundred, you just heard this stupid phrase in some movie. Usually, it was two, rarely three. But for some reason, you really want to show the shaggy guy that you are not cheap trash. The shaggy guy licks his lips, climbs to kiss you, squeezes your cock, and takes out an expensive extra lubricated condom. “I’m not a big sex for money fan.” He zips up his pants, pulls on his jacket again. You want to joke around, why for god sake did he come to the Fairy Tail. “But you were at your best.” Fumbling in his wallet, he pulls out four hundred. Suddenly your eyes fill with tears. It feels like you, despite the big money, have been fucking fooled. You can’t stand to complain to Mickey. But your drugged brain can’t figure out the reason. And you cry stupidly just like that. You and Mickey wander home in oppressive silence. Two guys wrapped in warm jackets hang around near the non-profit Emmaus van. They must be some of those volunteers working to help street hustlers. They are pouring coffee and soup from thermoses and imposing their brochures with steaming cups. Mickey smokes alone, one cigarette after another. The late company calls out to him, asking for a light. You notice, distantly, that he nervously clenches and unclenches his fists, as happens usually before a fight. The strangers laugh and offer to let Mickey take a drag of their joint, in exchange for light. You both keep walking. You rub your sore, reddened eyelids, smearing more of your mascara into the dark circles under your eyes. “Holy shit why we so fucked up, huh, Gallagher?” And you feel like the backpack that was hanging in front, pressing on your chest has finally been taken off. You smile at Mickey, wide and open, and when the smile touches your wet eyes, he smiles back.