"I hate that word," Treston said. "You're supposed to say transgender, or at least cross-dresser. Tranny is offensive."
"Fuck that shit," Harlan said. When he said fuck it sounded like fock. "These dudes want hot tranny ass and I told them you'd take good care of them for the right price."
Treston sat up in bed. He removed the ear plugs and set his phone on the pillow. "Did you lose again? Were you playing cards? Is this why you need money? I'm starting to think you have a gambling problem, Harlan. Maybe we should talk about it." Treston spoke in a soft loving tone. He had been born and raised in Vegas and he'd seen more than his share of addicted gamblers. In most cases they were worse than alcoholics or drug addicts. They would stop at nothing to get their gambling fix.
The rowdy college guys in the living room started to laugh. Harlan spoke over their deep hollow voices and said, "We'll talk later. Right now I need you to get your hot little ass out of bed and give these dudes some great tranny ass."
Treston blinked. "But I'm not a transgender or a cross dresser. I don't even like drag shows all that much." Though he had soft delicate features for a man, and a perfectly smooth body he shaved daily because he stripped in public, he'd never been a sissy boy. He worked out in a small makeshift gym in the back of the strip club almost daily to maintain a tight, toned body, and he hadn't been shortchanged in the penis department either. One of the reasons why men went to see him strip was because he was all man, but with a few exaggerated curves in the right places. The only thing that really set him apart from straight men was that he had blond highlights added to his brown hair about once a month. He thought the bleached highlights made him stand out from the rest of the male strippers at the club-and even that was questionable, because so many straight men he knew were dying their hair nowadays.
"These dudes don't know that," Harlan said. "Go put on the pink thing you wore in those Halloween photos you showed me. The one with the blond wig and the pink high heels. Even I thought you looked hot in it and I'm not even into fucking trannys."
"I wore the showgirl costume as a joke for Halloween one year at the club," Treston said. "The only reason I showed you the photo was for a laugh. The costume's in the back of my closet and it took me a while to get ready that night." Treston hated bad drag, which is why he never did it. He loved it when drag was campy or lifelike, but when it wasn't there was nothing more insulting.
Harlan laughed. "Just put on the costume, the wig, and some lipstick and the high heels. You're pretty enough to pass if you wiggle your ass the right way. These dudes are so fucking wasted they'll never care. They're willing to pay a thousand bucks to take turns on you."
"Oh, Harlan, I don't know about this. Seriously," Treston said. A thousand dollars was a lot of money. Treston had done worse at the club for less money.
The guys in the living room grew louder. When they started to scream, "We want pussy," in their deep, slurred, young male voices, Harlan climbed onto the bed, put his arms around Treston, and said, "If I you do this for me, we can pay off that credit card bill and get a couple of wedding rings and make it official. You know how much I want you to be my husband."
In the short time Treston had known Harlan he'd allowed Harlan to use his only credit card with the fifteen-hundred-dollar credit limit. The last time Treston tried to use the card he found out Harlan had maxed it out. But he loved his man so much he was willing to do anything for him. "Are you serious about this? We'll get rings and get married if I do this for you?"
"Sure I am, bitch," Harlan said. He reached between Treston's legs and found one of his extremely sensitive spots. He rubbed it gently with his thick, rough fingers and said, "You give these guys the best tranny ass they've ever had and I'll marry you this week."
Chapter Two
Harlan had been right about the three college guys being drunk. By the time Treston had put on his sexy Vegas showgirl costume with the pink high heels and entered the living room, all three were slumped back on his old brown sofa with their heads tilted, their eyes glazed, and their mouths half open.
Though Harlan hadn't had much time to put on the costume, he'd done his best with bright red lipstick and big fake breasts and the three guys sat up at the same time and gaped at him for a moment. One didn't even seem to realize he'd licked his lip. The pink outfit had a fluffy showgirl dress that stopped just above his knees, but with a tight sequined corset that pushed the fake breasts forward and cinched his thin waist.
Harlan put his arm around Treston and said, "Didn't I tell you she was fucking hot, guys?" He reached down and pulled up the pink sequined dress and said, "Look at those fucking legs."