He laughs. “How lovely. Did you know that ‘orchid’ comes from the Greek word for ‘testicle’?”
I think about the last—and hopefully final—time I saw Sean, and I can’t help but laugh either. “Then that is actually very fitting,” I say.
Griffin takes me out to dinner and then we walk around the Castro. It’s a warm night and the sidewalks are crowded, people are spilling out from the bars. We go by a café with big windows, music blaring. Griffin stops and looks in. “Hey, let’s check this out,” he says.
There’s a drag show going on inside, the place is packed. We squeeze in through the crowd, and because I’m walking behind Griffin, I see the way every man in the place stops and gives him the eye, some with their mouths hanging open.
A makeshift stage has been set up in the corner, and the MC is a six-foot-tall, burly man, wearing a pink wig and a lace corset. The music thrums and we have to shout to hear each other over it.
The drag queens are actually having a contest, to see who will be on the cover of next year’s annual drag calendar. They come out in all sorts of get-ups: sequins, lace, leather, with spike heels and feather boas. Griffin laughs and claps; at one point he whistles loudly with his fingers, and that gets the MC’s attention.
“Merciful lord in heaven!” she gasps. “I do believe I am looking at the finest specimen of male I have ever seen! Are you a mirage? Maria, shine the light over there; I must find out if my eyes are deceiving me!”
Then all of the sudden, there’s a blinding light on us, and the whole place erupts, and there are wolf whistles and cat calls and someone starts shouting: GET ON STAGE!
And then it seems like the whole place is chanting it, and Griffin is standing next to me just losing his shit laughing. He leans toward me. “Should I do it?” he shouts in my ear.
The spotlight is still on us. I have a feeling if I tell him no, the men in this place would rip me to pieces.
“Yes!” I shout back.
The chant dissolves into jubilant cheers as Griffin makes his way from where we were standing to the stage.
“Well, hello,” the MC says when Griffin finally gets up there. The MC makes a big show of blinking, rubbing his eyes, blinking again. “You really AREN’T a mirage. Because honey, let me tell you, I’ve seen—and been with—a few good-looking men in my day, but you . . . you take the cake, sweetie.”
The crowd roars. Someone near me starts shouting, “STRIP!” and pretty soon, the whole place is screaming.
“I bet you can dance, too,” the MC says. She sticks the microphone in Griffin’s face.
“I’ve been known to bust a move or two,” he says in between laughter.
“You certainly can’t tease us like that!” the MC says. “And I think I’m speaking on EVERYONE’S behalf when I say we’d like to see one or two of these moves.”
The DJ is spinning some upbeat club stuff, and Griffin doesn’t hesitate. He starts dancing, and he is actually quite good. Without missing a beat, he pulls his shirt off and flings it out into the crowd. Perhaps it’s the lighting, or the way he’s moving his body, but he looks so incredibly hot, it’s almost breathtaking. And clearly I am not the only one who thinks so. When the song ends, the noise from the crowd is deafening. Griffin gives the MC a hug and then jumps down off the stage.
“How’d I do?” he asks when he gets back over to me.
I’m still laughing. I’m laughing so hard, in fact, that tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I can’t remember the last time that I had so much fun. Without even thinking, I put my arms around him and give him a hug.
“You were awesome!” I shout into his ear.
I let go of him, and the guy standing next to me nudges me with his elbow. “You lucky bitch,” he says.
When we get back to the ranch, Griffin wants to take a walk on the beach. It’s late, but we’re both still too pumped up from the evening to go to bed, so I agree. He takes my hand as we make our way down the trail, and we walk down onto the sand, the waves crashing in front of us.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says. “Thanks for letting me take you out.”
“You’re a riot. That thing at the café? I seriously can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. And those guys loved you.”
We stop, and he lets go of my hand. He turns so he’s facing me; we’re close enough to embrace but for a moment we both just stand there. He smiles.
“You’re beautiful.”
I look down at the sand, then back at him, trying to ignore the tingling feeling that’s swirling in my chest. “For someone who’s been with as many girls as you have, I’d think you’d have a better line than that.”
“It’s not a line,” he says. “It’s the truth.”
He brings his hands up to either side of my face and waits until I meet his eyes before he speaks again. “And yes, maybe I have been with a lot of girls, but that only means I happen to know what I’m talking about. And you, sweetheart, are beautiful.”
He brings his hands down to my shoulders and lets his head drop toward mine, slowly, his eyes falling halfway shut. But he doesn’t kiss me; he stops, his mouth maybe an inch from mine, lips parted slightly.
We stand like that. He’s not going to kiss me. He’s going to let me kiss him, if I want to. If I choose not to, maybe he’ll give my shoulders a squeeze and then back away, tell me to keep my chin up or something.
I tilt my head back a little, closing the distance. Less than an inch.
He stays still. His breath is warm on my face, something tingles in the air between us. I touch my lips to his and kiss him very softly. His eyes fall closed the rest of the way and he lets out a noise that’s a cross between a sigh and a groan. He moves his head away and I feel his mouth near my ear.
“I want you,” he whispers. “Give me more.”
His grip tightens on my shoulders, his hands moving down my arms to my waist. He slips one hand under my shirt and his palm is warm, first on my hip, then moving across my abdomen. He brings his face to mine again and this time I pull him toward me, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him, mouths wide open, tongues entwined. We pull apart only so he can slip my dress over my head. The feeling of our bare skin touching is electric. He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at the sky and he slowly kisses the length of my neck. His fingertips trace lightly over the contours of my ribcage, my shoulder blades, and then he’s unfastening my bra and it falls away.