For this month, the Round Robin topic is to put up a short story, or some other example of your writing, I entered a contest a few years ago, that had topics involving 3 items that you had to work into the story. You were limited in wordage, which is the hardest thing for me to do! Each time I wrote to the prompt, I ended up with at least 3 times the words I was allowed! So the cutting began. This one won me the contest! The prompt gave these 3 items:
The vice-president, dentures, a transvestite. I call it:
How Well Do You Know Your Spouse?
She sighed with exasperation.
"Really, Robert? You forgot your dentures? Where did you go without them?"
Jealousy ate at her. They'd had a whirlwind courtship involving lots of passionate love-making. Their wedding had been a private affair with only a few friends invited. They'd squeezed it in between the election and the inauguration. But lately, he'd been going out at night alone at least once a week, and coming home late smelling of perfume which was not hers.
She grabbed her keys and her cell phone and called his chauffeur.
"I know it's his night out, but he forgot something really important. Where is he?"
She got into her Corvette, one of the last vestiges of private life that she had insisted on keeping. Once she got to the club she let the valets park her car.
She paid the cover charge on the way in, then looked around for her errant husband. She edged over to an open stool at the bar, while scanning the crowd. She still hadn't seen any familiar faces when the house lights dimmed and the show started.
It was a mildly entertaining variety-type show filled with innuendo-laden skits broken up with music and dance routines. Gradually she realized what kind of show it was.
"Excuse me, is this a drag show?" She asked the bartender as he brought her the glass of Chablis she'd ordered.
He smiled, "Aren't you the observant one, honey?"
A loud laugh went around the audience, and she turned to see an extravagantly-clad dancer begin to do a sexy samba, while wearing 5-inch spiked sandals, with a fruit basket balanced precariously atop a towering wig. She laughed along with the rest of the customers, at the dancer who managed to look sexy while being extremely funny. When the dance was over and everyone was cheering, the dancer bowed multiple times, to thank everyone. As she/he turned to the bar area, he looked directly into her eyes and she saw recognition along with a quick flash of fear. The curtain closed and the house lights came back on for intermission.
Karen was already on the move, heading for the backstage area. She bribed her way in, asking which dressing room door would lead her to the last dancer. She knocked on his door, turning the handle even before she heard, "Come in."
Their eyes met once again and the dancer sagged into the nearest chair in a position of despair.
"I didn't mean for you to find out this way," he began.
"How were you planning on telling me? And when?"
"I thought I had more time..."
She peered closely at the face she barely recognized under the stage make-up.
"How is it you have teeth?" She opened her purse and took out the case that held his dentures.
"I have two pairs. The ones I'm wearing now have less teeth. It helps to make my face more effeminate." He looked away, "I never forgot the other ones before."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's kind of hard to just bring up in a conversation. 'Oh honey, the man you married likes to wear women's clothing and shake bootie in front of paying customers.' I had no idea how you'd react, so I've been putting it off."
His face reflected so many emotions: despair, self-loathing, unhappiness.
"You could have tried trusting me. I love you, you know. Here I was worried about why you were going out alone and coming home smelling of some other woman's perfume. If I'd have known you were the other woman...I'd have felt so much better about things."
A faint glimmer of hope flashed across his face, "Really? Can you accept this part of me? I love you all of the time, Karen, but this is something I've enjoyed doing for many years. I have no idea why it never made the news during the primaries, and the campaign. But it didn't, so I thought I was safe."
"People were too busy focusing on the fact that one of your opponents had a wife and two mistresses, all of whom were raising his children, and the other was a woman with a wife of her own. Maybe they figured this was insignificant compared to that?"
"Insignificant? It wasn't so long ago that trannies of any kind were outcasts."
"I know you're not gay, but are you bi-sexual too?"
"Nope. I'm hopelessly hetero. The only one I want to ravish is you, my gorgeous Chablis-swilling wife."
"When are you done here?"
"My part of the show is already over. I usually enjoy the rest of the show as myself. Only the staff and the other drag queens know who I really am."
"Then you'll need these, huh?" She held out the container with the dentures.
"You'll stay to watch the show with me? Or do we need to talk?"
"We have the rest of our lives to talk. From what I've seen so far, it's a pretty entertaining revue."
"I want to hug and kiss you, but..."
She grimaced, "Wash that stuff off your face first, please."
He moved behind a screen to change clothing.
"What name do you dance under?"
"Roberta. Why?"
"I'm just thinking that if the polls show you trailing in the mid-terms, maybe you should introduce the rest of the country to your other self."
"I don't think the country is ready for a transvestite to be a heartbeat away from the presidency."
"No one thought the country was ready for a gay president either until they elected him...twice."
When he emerged from behind the screen, it was her husband, dressed in casual slacks and a polo shirt who was wiping his face with a damp towel.
"You're really all right with this?"
"I'm just relieved you're not cheating on me. Besides, it could be worse."
"How?"
"At least you didn't meet me until after my surgeries were done. No need for both of us to worry about being publicly outed as trannies..."
Oops! I forgot to put up a link to the next author's post! My bad!
Check out what Rhobin had to say, and then you can find the other authors as well: https://www.rhobincourtright.comwww.rhobincourtright.com
The vice-president, dentures, a transvestite. I call it:
How Well Do You Know Your Spouse?
She sighed with exasperation.
"Really, Robert? You forgot your dentures? Where did you go without them?"
Jealousy ate at her. They'd had a whirlwind courtship involving lots of passionate love-making. Their wedding had been a private affair with only a few friends invited. They'd squeezed it in between the election and the inauguration. But lately, he'd been going out at night alone at least once a week, and coming home late smelling of perfume which was not hers.
She grabbed her keys and her cell phone and called his chauffeur.
"I know it's his night out, but he forgot something really important. Where is he?"
She got into her Corvette, one of the last vestiges of private life that she had insisted on keeping. Once she got to the club she let the valets park her car.
She paid the cover charge on the way in, then looked around for her errant husband. She edged over to an open stool at the bar, while scanning the crowd. She still hadn't seen any familiar faces when the house lights dimmed and the show started.
It was a mildly entertaining variety-type show filled with innuendo-laden skits broken up with music and dance routines. Gradually she realized what kind of show it was.
"Excuse me, is this a drag show?" She asked the bartender as he brought her the glass of Chablis she'd ordered.
He smiled, "Aren't you the observant one, honey?"
A loud laugh went around the audience, and she turned to see an extravagantly-clad dancer begin to do a sexy samba, while wearing 5-inch spiked sandals, with a fruit basket balanced precariously atop a towering wig. She laughed along with the rest of the customers, at the dancer who managed to look sexy while being extremely funny. When the dance was over and everyone was cheering, the dancer bowed multiple times, to thank everyone. As she/he turned to the bar area, he looked directly into her eyes and she saw recognition along with a quick flash of fear. The curtain closed and the house lights came back on for intermission.
Karen was already on the move, heading for the backstage area. She bribed her way in, asking which dressing room door would lead her to the last dancer. She knocked on his door, turning the handle even before she heard, "Come in."
Their eyes met once again and the dancer sagged into the nearest chair in a position of despair.
"I didn't mean for you to find out this way," he began.
"How were you planning on telling me? And when?"
"I thought I had more time..."
She peered closely at the face she barely recognized under the stage make-up.
"How is it you have teeth?" She opened her purse and took out the case that held his dentures.
"I have two pairs. The ones I'm wearing now have less teeth. It helps to make my face more effeminate." He looked away, "I never forgot the other ones before."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's kind of hard to just bring up in a conversation. 'Oh honey, the man you married likes to wear women's clothing and shake bootie in front of paying customers.' I had no idea how you'd react, so I've been putting it off."
His face reflected so many emotions: despair, self-loathing, unhappiness.
"You could have tried trusting me. I love you, you know. Here I was worried about why you were going out alone and coming home smelling of some other woman's perfume. If I'd have known you were the other woman...I'd have felt so much better about things."
A faint glimmer of hope flashed across his face, "Really? Can you accept this part of me? I love you all of the time, Karen, but this is something I've enjoyed doing for many years. I have no idea why it never made the news during the primaries, and the campaign. But it didn't, so I thought I was safe."
"People were too busy focusing on the fact that one of your opponents had a wife and two mistresses, all of whom were raising his children, and the other was a woman with a wife of her own. Maybe they figured this was insignificant compared to that?"
"Insignificant? It wasn't so long ago that trannies of any kind were outcasts."
"I know you're not gay, but are you bi-sexual too?"
"Nope. I'm hopelessly hetero. The only one I want to ravish is you, my gorgeous Chablis-swilling wife."
"When are you done here?"
"My part of the show is already over. I usually enjoy the rest of the show as myself. Only the staff and the other drag queens know who I really am."
"Then you'll need these, huh?" She held out the container with the dentures.
"You'll stay to watch the show with me? Or do we need to talk?"
"We have the rest of our lives to talk. From what I've seen so far, it's a pretty entertaining revue."
"I want to hug and kiss you, but..."
She grimaced, "Wash that stuff off your face first, please."
He moved behind a screen to change clothing.
"What name do you dance under?"
"Roberta. Why?"
"I'm just thinking that if the polls show you trailing in the mid-terms, maybe you should introduce the rest of the country to your other self."
"I don't think the country is ready for a transvestite to be a heartbeat away from the presidency."
"No one thought the country was ready for a gay president either until they elected him...twice."
When he emerged from behind the screen, it was her husband, dressed in casual slacks and a polo shirt who was wiping his face with a damp towel.
"You're really all right with this?"
"I'm just relieved you're not cheating on me. Besides, it could be worse."
"How?"
"At least you didn't meet me until after my surgeries were done. No need for both of us to worry about being publicly outed as trannies..."
Oops! I forgot to put up a link to the next author's post! My bad!
Check out what Rhobin had to say, and then you can find the other authors as well: https://www.rhobincourtright.comwww.rhobincourtright.com
