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Corey didn’t blink. His body sat stiff on the couch, cold beer melting on his hand. He hadn’t touched the lid which was very unusual. His after-show routine consisted ditching his friends to the dressing room, grab a beer or more and drain them in less than a minute—because he was an impatient bastard like that and the physical chaotic performance really dried his body liquid and water just not enough! But, this time, he just sat there. Eyes fixed across the room. Entirely forgetting what was in his hand. Dumbfounded.
Last time he checked, he was still into women. Soft skin, red cherry lips and long pretty hair. To confirm that, being a smug bastard he was, he actually fucked two groupies at once last night—very proud, couldn’t stop boasting about it the next morning. Though wasted as fuck, he was sure he turned on by those chicks.
But now, he started to question his own belief.
When he entered the dressing room, he found a man casually put on a fish net stocking in front a body-length mirror. At first, Corey barely recognized the man and almost indicted him as a drunk guy who took the wrong room. But, when he did, Corey just couldn’t peel his eyes from him. It was Joey. All in his alter ego grandeur. Tight shirt, red tie, short leather skirt, fish net stockings, and menacing black leather boots, Corey internally screamed at himself, who the fuck was that?
“Wends wants me to do an encore. That substitute guitar guy they hired can’t do it for whatever reasons. Sucks when your two bands performing right after another.”
Unlike him, Joey apparently aware of his entrance, shoot up an explanation before the singer even had time to vocalize his question. He looked annoyed, but fixed his appearance anyway. Now Corey understood why did Joey rushing out right when the show’s over.
Corey said nothing in response and it looked like Joey wasn’t expecting one, either. He promptly reached a small pouch full of make-up and began grooming himself—entirely ignoring Corey’s stunned gawk as he fell to the nearest couch before his knees gave up in shock.
And there he was. Corey couldn’t believe his eyes. Yes, he knew Joey was the guitarist of that infamous Murderdolls band. And, yes, that band had Marilyn Manson-esque appearance. Also, yes, Joey wore a skirt in some of their performances. But, no, Corey had never seen Joey fixing his make-up in cheap drag-queen attire in front of a mirror like a fucking transvestite hooker!
There were too much to process, but his brain just kept babbling in excitement yet curiosity about one particular part about all this; Joey’s appearance. For a second, Corey swore to whatever gods out there, Joey looked fucking hot.
Wait, what? Corey mentally slapped himself right away. That's so gay.
But still, how the fuck could Joey look so different without his baggy jumpsuit and creepy-ass Michael Myers mask?
He’d seen Joey performed with Murderdolls wearing a skirt; he looked like a transvestite with severe anger issues and he was not that appealing.
“Jo, we’re ready!”
Corey snapped out of his daydream when one of the Murderdolls members popped out behind the door, topless, hair looked like he just struck by lighting. Corey didn’t really know them. The closest member was Wednesday, but the rest were just faces without names.
The tall guy who Corey believed was the drummer, gave him an acknowledgment nod. Corey raised his beer in hospitality, but like before, no words out. The guy didn’t respond much as he immediately glared at Joey. “Come on!”
“Can you fucking wait? This shit ain’t gonna fix themselves!” Joey spat in annoyance, pointing at his half-way done make up. He still looked fine even when pissed.
“Jesus, chill out. We gonna wait out front, then.”
“Next time you want me to do an encore, let me know ten days beforehand, jackass!”
“The fuck you getting all pissed on me, man? Tell that to Wednesday!”
Door slammed shut, Joey cussing under his breath.
The brief appearance of the third person somehow break some ice inside Corey’s brain. He just remembered about the beer and quickly savor on it to distract himself. Every gulp went down with him mentally reminding himself that Joey was a guy. And he’s not hot, fine or whatever. It was just for a show.
Though, Corey got to admit Joey really rocked those leather gear and fish net stockings. But, not in the gay way. Sure.
Bottle had drained but Corey had lost his drinking appetite. It left him doing nothing but gave Joey another long beam. The drummer was now skillfully gave his lips a few more strokes of black lipstick, still unaware of Corey’s intense stare.
God, the way he put that thing.
Corey felt the uncomfortable pressure inside his pants. He muttered.
Joey made a smacking sound with his lips, sending a shiver down to Corey’s spine. He stood straight, checking on himself to make sure his appearance was spot on. Starting from the leather boots, Joey bent over to tighten the lace. His long silky hair fell as he curved. Corey couldn’t help but think Joey would be a charming girl if he was born as the opposite sex. And, man, look at that ass!
Corey quickly dismissed the thought and slap himself mentally. Oh, God, what the fuck was happening?
Joey then pulled each of his skirt sides down as if it was too short for his liking. Corey held his breath, now he noticed how short that skirt was. And that also made him realize how small Joey was. He looked like a girl. Joey pass on the shirt and jumped about his hair. He pulled few strands he thought looked out-of-place and combed them neat with his fingers. Joey pulled a slight satisfied smile.
Joey startled when he greeted by an intense gaze from Corey as he turned around. It was unusual—if not creepy, to find Corey sat still, staring at him. He frowned, wondering why Corey gawked at him and for how long he had done that.
He was about to ask when he trailed where exactly Corey’s eyes been bored at. The short black leather skirt displayed in its tempting glory—that was where Corey’s eyes nailed on. All gloating like a lion to a deer. Joey scoffed in disbelief. He’s been eye-fucked.
“Oh, like what you see?” Joey teased, slyly smirking as he rested his right hand to his waist.
It took no genius to figure out why Corey’d been eye-fucking him. He was notoriously known for his freaky obsession with anything leather and fish net. And Joey didn’t mind it, frankly. Fact was, he flattered his appearance got the straight-as-an-arrow-womanizer Corey dumbstruck stunned.
Corey snapped out. His eyes darted from Joey’s thighs up to his face. He found Joey grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
With limited time, his brain proceeded Joey’s remark. As soon as he figured things out, Corey spontaneously hid his tightening pants. His mind went blank. He tried to make up some words to defend himself but his brain just shut right up. Meanwhile, Joey still stood right there, waiting for an answer or anything explainable with a sly smile Corey didn’t know what was the meaning of on his face. Corey came up with inaudible mumbles before realizing it was just pointless. He’s busted. He didn’t think Joey would notice!
Just like a little kid caught red-handed stealing or lying, the only response Corey could make out between his startled frenzy was playing innocent, “What?”
Joey scoffed, slightly mocked Corey’s pathetic defense. To think of it, it was fun to see Corey all dazzled up and cornered. His usual persona came out strong with words and as if he could get away from murder, even. But, now, he was just—exposed. Maybe that’s because he knew that Joey knew and somehow he embarrassed?
“I said,” Joey played around—taunting him, “like what you see?” interested to find out how Corey would react.
Corey knew a mock, and that was a mockery. He felt every cell in his body screaming in dread of being ridicule later on, when Joey spread the words of this moment to the rest of the band—especially about him perving on a guy in a leather skirt—notably, Joey fucking Jordison. Why didn’t Joey just shrug it off and let him slip? Why’d he needed to mock him instead? If he knew, didn’t he grossed out? A normal man would simply tell Corey to fuck off and lay this shit to rest, not turn it into a fucking jest!
He vigorously tried to keep his cool, though, acting up so heterosexual while sipping on his drained beer as his last defend making Joey dismiss whatever goofy game he was playing. He hoped Joey didn’t know his beer was near empty.
Corey mentally pushed himself to look at his drummer. “No.” he said in fabricated confidence, “you look like a transvestite prostitute.”
Joey almost burst in laughter. But he held it by biting his lips playfully, “Why, I thought they’re your favorite.”
Sly smile still plastered on his face, Joey seductively walked over his band mate. Corey twitched at Joey’s approach.
“Gross,” Corey frowned in discomfort, internally panicking when Joey getting closer to him, “the fuck you doing?”
Joey took the beer off Corey’s grasp, biting his lips seductively to throw the flirting impression when actually he was dying to hold his laughter.
“Oh, come on, Cor. You’ve been eye-fucking me for god knows how long. Don’t play dumb.” Joey leaned in, a grin on his face, bitten black lips. Corey unconsciously held his breath and too dumbstruck to react. Bunch of alarms inside his head signaled him to push Joey away before it’s too late, but he kinda wanted to know what will his drummer would do.
Whoa, he actually had pretty blue eyes if you see them up close.
“Jo—” Joey put his finger on Corey’s lips, cut whatever word the singer wanted to say just like in cliché movies. Just how obedient he became, Joey dying to hold his laughter.
“Shh,” Corey couldn’t help but tensed up when Joey crawled and sit on his lap. HIS LAP.
Oh, fuck no!
Eyes widen up. Bunch of alarms inside his head abruptly went off with blaring sounds and internal chaotic clutter. Beer can slapped from Joey’s hand. Corey tried to get Joey from him; pushing and resisting while Joey finally broke into laughter and put the same fights.
“The fuck you doing? Get off!”
“Come on, Cor!” Joey laughed, pinning the singer deeper into the couch playfully.
“Get—”
“Don’t you like my skirt—?”
“What took you so—”
Seeing Joey, in a skirt and fish net, sitting on Corey’s lap, pinning the singer to the dressing room couch was never a sight that anyone’s ever thought could happen. Not a chance. Not even imaginable.
That’s why Wednesday’s annoyed look fell into a most worried frown once he opened the dressing room door and found two of his close friends doing the most unexpected thing. The same reaction happened to Shawn, Jim and Sid who were just back from the shower, tailing right behind Wednesday. Their laughter about whatever Sid’s previous silly joke dropped just like that.
“—long?” Wednesday took nearly solid five seconds to finish his sentences.
Corey and Joey were surprised as well, suddenly stopped whatever they were doing. Corey quickly took the chance to push Joey off him and hastily stood up. Joey fell on his butt.
Corey was about to give an explanation when Joey cut him right up.
“Corey wants me to give him a lap dance.” Joey fired up, promptly pointing at Corey as he tried to get off the floor.
“What?!” Corey yelled. Felt screwed when everyone’s eyes instantaneously glared suspiciously at him. “No—”
“He said I’m hot in a skirt.” Joey added, sounded so convincing, circulate more shock into their band mates’ faces.
“What the fuck—I’m not—” Corey lost of words. He took a deep breath, “You believe him?”
“Why wouldn’t they? I bet I look like exactly like that groupie you invited to the bus last night.” Joey taunted with a smirk, knowing he had everyone’s attention. Corey gave him a murderous glare.
It gave Joey nothing, though. Instead, Joey tried to find something that affirm his words, glancing at Corey’s pants. To his surprise and luck, there was quite a bulge going on in there. Joey’s grinned even wider.
“That’s probably why you got all turned on.” Joey flicked his chin to Corey’s bottom, which followed by the speechless bystanders. Everyone grunted in disgust.
“Hey—!” Corey hastily closed his legs, “It doesn’t mean—”
Joey laugh, “Well, I’m off to the stage. We’ll have some fun another time, Cor.” he flicked his hair aside and fix his crumpled skirt, headed out passed his band mates on the door as he playfully waved to Corey in particular.
Everyone fell silent.
Wednesday sighed, awkwardly turned around to catch up Joey, “Well, I’m—uh, I need to go.”
He gave everyone a nervous smile before hitting down the backstage. Jim heard him cursing on the way.
Back to Corey; Shawn’s mouth part agape, he tried to find a word to react, but he just didn’t know if he should be reacting because he didn’t even know what was happening. Meanwhile, Jim threw his gaze on the floor, looked as awkward as Shawn.
Everyone was quiet for a while, didn’t know what to say.
Sid suddenly threw his hands in the air and shriek on the top of his lungs in excitement, “We got a fag in the team, yo!”
Everyone glared at him with grimace.
“Whoo!”
—
End