The summer air hit my mid-riff above the Daisy Dukes I wore with no underwear.
Above them, I had a padded bra under the frayed flannel and a long blonde wig. The make-up artist blended everything perfectly, and it was only up close you could tell I was a man, my arse sculpted from squats, abs nice, but not too muscular.
"Donnie, you look amazing," Walter said; he in his usual attire - a three-piece tailored suit.
"Why thank you, ya' ol' cutie pie!" I did the drawl, pinching his cheek, then pecking him on the lips.
He gave me a gaze that told me it was a little over acted.
"I Louhhhhove a man in a suit," my drawl somewhat toned down. I took his arm and we headed for the limo. "Oh, and please call me 'Daisy'!"
"'Daisy,' you're going to have one hot night tonight," he said, but I wasn't sure what he meant. Having just moved in with him while my wife was out being indoctrinated into giving herself freely, having a 'hot night' had no set connotation.
"Just as long as you take me home at the end..."
Walter just looked at me, after all he was the dominant. I did as he directed me, for money or for his whimsy. He had brought me into the company, my abilities quickly allowing me to move into a business position to match my skills as a high-end escort for men in the area.
We swung around the back of the first bar he took me to, "Blaze", which was having an amateur drag night, and he wanted me to make an entrance on my own. Limo after limo were lined up outside and each drag queen made an Oscar like entrance. There was a dozen or more people outside cheering, a photo backdrop for a shoot, and then escorted inside where they were interviewed.
Walter went into a VIP entrance at the back, primarily for those wanting to keep their sexuality a secret, 1992 was not a time where many gay businessmen were 'out'.
"Nervous?" Juan asked, from the driver's seat, smiling, knowing my abilities. He and his have seen me on my knees and all fours, breaking me into this lifestyle.
"A little, my friend," I said, touching his shoulder, having not seen him in a couple weeks.
"Let me know if Mr. Donnovan's needs get too bad, I'll come over and service if you get my drift," Juan joked, patting my hand.
I took a shot of whiskey, pushed up my bra and pads, checked my lipstick, eyeliner and facial make-up.
I was ready.
"From Central Iowa, give it up for 'DAISY'!" the MC said. Hyped for some dirty gay sex on a Friday night, the crowd cheered; some were in trans attire themselves, some in shorts and tanks. Whilst it wasn't that socially acceptable, on nights like tonight when the vanillas were nowhere in sight, the gays had the neighborhood.
I burst out of the car, stepping, strutting, my cheeks swaying left and right. I turned and blew kisses, my big smile and big white teeth to the fore, leaning forward showing my cleavage.
"How Ya'll doin' tonight?"
The crowd went crazy. The microphone was handed to me half-way down.
"Come on in and see lil' ol' 'Daisy' win, and then come and mingle with me; ya'll so CUTE!!!"
After more applause I gave the mic back, strutting to the backdrop. They took a dozen pictures, my skills unrefined, but my energy made up for my style.
"Bye! See ya'll inside."
I was directed to a room where the rest of the contestants were drinking and talking. There were men in suits and men in tanks, and I saw Walter in the corner talking to another businessman, pointing over to me, but not signalling.
"Love the look, 'Daisy,'" a 'Liza Minnelli' said.
"Gorg...," a skinny 'Cher' said. "You might give me and Christos a run"
He pointed over to a sexy cop dressed as Madonna, who was pulling it off amazingly well.
The next hour was a free-for-all of alcohol and drugs (of which I didn't partake).
Walter just watched me interact with several of the "girls" who pushed into me and felt my lower extremities, asking when I'd be alone.
There were still 15 minutes until show time when Walter finally came over with his friend, Geoff Landis, a 65-year-old high-end real estate man from Minneapolis.
"Daisy, this is Geoff."
"Daisy," he said taking my hand and kissing the top of it keeping eye contact. "I'm looking forward to your performance!"
"Aww, thank ya'" I scrunched up my nose and smiled. I was making an impression on him and he looked back at Walter.
"I hope my lil' ol' self can live up to your high tastes."
His smile was wide so I moved in and pecked him on the cheek.
"Now I gotta go freshen myself up. Byee!"
Walter nodded in approval, and Geoff grabbed his forearm, smiling.
"Okay bitches, head to your dressing rooms. You have five minutes out there to win over the crowd and the judges!"
It was a blur and I was thankful I was third, not first and not towards the back. My plan was simple; I would just do the dance my wife, Mel, and I did at our wedding to "Sold" by John Michael Montgomery (JMM), just finding people in the crowd who were moving and pretend they were my wife. We had practiced it for six months and at other weddings had broken it out to just about any country song that was upbeat.
The song had just the right amount of drawl in it to go with my persona. I banked on high scores for song, persona and energy, the shots having me dance to the songs of the first two 'ladies' getting ready. I was competitive, but knew I really didn't have a chance, so there was no pressure.
"Okay 'Daisy,' you're up," one of the producers said, opening my door. I was whisked off to the backstage area on which a mousy 'Pat Benatar' had just finished 'Hit Me with Your Best Shot' and was taking several bows, strutting around.
"Kill it, Babe!" she said, pinching my arm, as the MC came back on - "And now..., give it up for 'DAISY'!"
The music started and I took the stage, waving and jumping. Ironically it felt no different than the applause we got at our wedding; We killed it then and I killed it tonight. My inner 'Daisy' combined with my memory of this dance, and, when the final note played, I bowed and the place jumped to its feet.
"Oh MY! DAISY!" the MC howled. "That will be hard to beat."
I left the stage, getting patted on the back by the stagehands and producers. I slipped back to my dressing room where I found a man sitting naked on the couch.
"Geoff?" I asked.
