Bella refilled her Dixie cup with vodka, offered to share with her five new “boyfriends”.
Matt took a big gulp, passed the cup to the guy next to him, and so on.
While the cup was working its way back to her, Bella addressed the audience.
“Dixie cups at parties. Always disappearing. Know what I mean? You fix yourself a nice drink, set it down for just a minute to go give a guy a blowjob, and when you come back some old hag is drinking from your cup!”
Laughter.
“So, what do you do when you don’t want old hags taking your property?”
“MARK IT!” The audience yelled. Hooted and yelled. They obviously knew this part.
Bella nodded. “Yep. MARK IT!”
By this time the Dixie cup had been returned to her. She retrieved the tube of lipstick from the small table, applied it generously to her lips, and then pressed her mouth to the cup’s side, imprinting the blue plastic with a distinct lip-shaped smear.
“That’s my mark!” she said, holding the cup high for the audience to see. “I better not catch any old hags drinking from it now!”
Loud laughter.
She eyed the five contestants suspiciously. “Or young fags!” she said. “Keep your mitts off my property!”
More laughter.
Bella set the cup down, then hesitated. Looked at her chest. Frowned. Pushed the left breast back into place. “Just double checking,” she said, gazing at the audience. “None of you dudes is a dyke with some duct tape, right?”
She waited a beat. “I only ask because some people are very good at passing as the opposite sex. Just sayin’.”
The audience loved her.
The guy sitting at the keyboard started playing soft music.
Bella gave up on her left breast, addressed the five contestants in the chairs. Told them to get on their knees and open their mouths. Walked up to each one, assessing angles—contestant’s mouth in relation to her crotch. Joked that two of the guys would need to kneel on phone books, of which she had none.
Bella dismissed the two short contestants, kissed them magnanimously, and declared that the bartender would give them a free drink—if they could reach that high.
“Seriously folks, these two are that rarest of breeds: pocket gays. Otherwise known as ‘spinners.’ Put ’em on your dick and spin them like dreidels!”
The keyboard music grew a little louder, more insistent.
“Hear that music?” Bella asked the audience. “That’s my cue to sing. First, though, I need you to help me pick which of these three remaining boys is going to be my—” (Big exaggerated wink) “– dance partner later!”
Loud cheering from the audience.
Bella turned to Matt, Paul, and the other remaining contestant. “Okay boys, take off your shirts!”
The crowd went wild.
Matt, Paul, and Other Guy stared at each other, unwilling to be the first to comply.
“Come on boys!” Bella urged. “Don’t be shy. You were going to be bare-assed by midnight anyway. Don’t try denying it. This is the Sooner state, right? Just get shirtless sooner!”
Paul shrugged out of his Hawaiian outer shirt, peeled off his t-shirt. Stood there with his rounded shoulders and soft belly, radiating confidence.
Matt and Other Guy followed suit—absent the whole “I-know-you-want-me” vibe.
Bella asked the audience to clap loudest for the one they thought the hottest.
Paul came in second place. Pineapple Paul. Matt was happy for his friend. Would have been even happier if Paul had won.
Matt took first.
Bella dismissed Paul and Other Guy. Predicted they would have no trouble getting laid that evening.
Matt stood there shirtless, blinking in the spotlights. He could feel the warm glow of the alcohol infusing him, mellowing him. This was almost over. Soon he would be free. Free to pee. He liked the way that sounded: free to pee. Imagined how good it would feel—the peeing. The exquisite almost-painful, almost-orgasmic tinkle tingle.
And then he would hunt for a fuck buddy.
“MARK IT!” yelled the crowd. “MARK IT! MARK IT!”
Bella grabbed her tube of lipstick. “Thanks for reminding me,” she said. “I’ve got to mark my property!”
It took Matt a moment to realize what (or who) was being marked. It dawned on him slowly, swimming through the fog of his brain. He was the Dixie cup! He was being marked! Purpose still not clear.
Bella kissed Matt’s chest, left her distinctive red lip smear on his left pec, near his heart.
The guy on the keyboard stepped up the volume.
Bella picked up Matt’s shirt, tucked one end of it into the back of his jeans, giving him a tail. Her fingers grazed the edge of Matt’s crack. “You go now, baby, while Bella earns her keep. I’ll find you after the show.”
Matt stumbled down the stairs, but did not head to the table where William waited for him. Instead, he exited into the hotel’s main hall, found the bathroom. Drained his bladder.
A hot guy stood at the trough urinal, peeing. They checked each other out. Smiled. Matt was ready to follow this guy to his room, slap on a condom, and top off the evening.
Hot guy tucked his dick back into his jeans. Zipped up. “Too bad you’re Bella’s toy tonight. Bad for me, I mean. You really do look like that actor guy.”
Hot guy went to the sink, washed his hands, opened the door with a paper towel. “Next time you’re here, look me up,” he said before leaving.
Matt had no trouble getting back into the Copa. Even the bouncers recognized Bella’s mark.
He made his way to the table. William was watching Bella sing.
Matt sank into his chair. There would be no hunting fuck buddies for him that night. He was destined to be mauled by an 8-foot drag queen.
***
Less than an hour later Matt was in Bella’s room, in the shower with her, letting her slide a soapy finger into his hole, prepping him for rimming, prelude to fucking. Except, of course, Bella was a guy. A hot one with a big cock.
Matt’s course reversal from disinterest in Bella to willing acceptance of her finger up his ass had surprised even Matt.
Bella’s show ended at 11:00 p.m. She disappeared backstage. Dancing resumed in the pit, but Matt remained at the table with William. What was the point in dancing if not to find a fuck buddy? Nobody wanted to come between Bella and her marked man.
By 11:30, couples started trickling out, taking the action to their rooms.
Matt eyed them wistfully. William told him to cheer up, that Bella didn’t really expect Matt to do anything. That this was about optics, a showbiz thing. All Matt had to do was leave with Bella, wait 15-20 minutes, then return. People would assume he’d had a quickie and was back for a new partner.
William said it would be a win-win for both Bella and Matt. Bella would get her precious optics. Matt would be a hot commodity, having been marked by Bella as the most desirable guy in the joint.
“Plus,” William added, “you should consider staying with Bella. You’ll find her charms to be breathtaking—in the most literal sense of the word. Breathtaking, dahling.”
Matt didn’t give a shit about optics or being a hot commodity. Life was not a giant stage—except that it was to people like William and Bella.
Cue the fucking spotlight. It was a nightclub, after all, and everyone had been waiting for Bella to claim her marked property. Matt sat illuminated in a circle of bright light.