Like a literal sex magnet, the group gets larger and larger as we walk over to the Darkroom. All told, we wind up with fourteen people: myself, Santiago, Enrique, Claire, Sam, Pen, Sorrento, Chain, Sinclair, Charlotte, Lawrence, Chantelle, Morgan, and Rain.

When we get there, Enrique empties his pockets and shouts, “Enjoy!” as condoms go flying everywhere. There is a chorus of laughter, and people begin taking over benches and corners. There is a rustling of clothing and the wet sounds of people kissing and licking and sucking each other. At one point, someone calls out, “Who wants to be spit roasted?” and I laugh as Santiago eagerly volunteers. I am gazing at my fiance, enjoying watching her when I hear Lawrence say to Rain, “Don’t ever call me Larry while my fist is in your ass!” Morgan and Chain co-top Claire and Chantelle for a while, and Rain receives one of his infamous “poetry blowjobs,” reciting poetry in between grunts and thrusts. Everyone is enjoying themselves, but it’s not just the sex. There is a camaraderie that permeates the room. A few years ago, this would have felt like a bunch of strangers fucking. It still would have been hot, but this is different. This is a room full of friends and lovers, people who care a great deal about each other, who are not there just to get off. It feels like a community.

Suddenly, a fist grasps my hair and hauls me up from the leather bench I was sitting on. I gasp, a tingle traveling through my body that starts at the hand on my scalp and settles in my loins. Santiago drags me to the center of the room and pushes me down to my knees. “Time to show everyone that you belong to me.” She says something else, but it doesn’t register. It doesn’t matter. I know what she wants.

I grasp her hips and lean forward, purposely letting my hot breath fall against her pussy before I even touch her with my mouth. I kiss her outer lips softly, then open my mouth and lick at them gently. I hear her suck in her breath, and I grin. I love having that effect on her. Parting her lips with my tongue, I begin lapping at her clit. She moans above me and clutches my hair, pushing my face harder between her legs. I tense up the tip of my tongue and swipe it up and down, just the way I know she likes it. After a few moments, I can tell she’s getting close. I slide a finger inside, then another, and fuck her with my hand while she humps my mouth. She convulses around my hand, smothering my face as she cums. I wait until I’m sure she’s finished before removing my fingers.

As soon as she catches her breath, she pulls me up and kisses me passionately. “My turn.” She drops to her knees to return the favor.

“Oh, god,” I cry out as her tongue quickly finds my clit. Hearing her cum has me so turned on already that I’m cumming in less than a minute. “Oh– oh, god– yes, yes– Maria!” I gasp out. “Maria, oh, fuck, yes, please, ahh, god!”  My nails dig into her shoulders as my body shudders. “Maria, Maria, oh, fuck, Ma–Ma–MARIAAAAAA!

I’m leaning against her, still catching my breath, when I dimly hear a voice somewhere in the room ask, “Who the fuck is Maria?”

Still Got It

This year, the drag show has a mixture of sad, funny, and poignant acts. Marcie goes first, which is astonishing in and of itself – Nate usually opens the show himself. I’ve never really spoken with Marcie outside of our encounter backstage last year, and I am surprised when she announces to the audience that she’s positive. She cleverly pounds that point home with a play on the words: “Some of us are going to get sick: I’m positive. Some of us are going to die: I’m positive.” She launches into a heartbreaking rendition of Amazing Grace. After a few bars, the audience joins in and finishes the song with her. The mood is melancholy when she leaves the stage, but that changes quickly when the Queen of Manhattan comes out (so to speak). She performs beautifully as usual, and is just as sassy as ever. Mary Lou performs again this year, and this time receives a standing ovation. She’s really going places, I think. She’ll be on the radio soon!

Next, in an interesting juxtaposition from Mary Lou’s performance, the sounds of pop music fill the room. Chantelle bounces out from behind the curtain to perform Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” When she starts pulling people from the audience to dance with her, Santiago mutters, “Oh, hell no.” She leans over to me. “If she tries to get me up there, I’m sending you. There is no way I’m getting on that stage.” I laugh. True to her word, when Chantelle takes Santiago’s hand and tries to tug her on stage, she places my hand into Chantelle’s and shrinks away. Laughing, I allow her to pull me onto the stage. I aggressively dance very close to her, dipping her at the end of the song, and dance her off the stage still holding her very close. I wave at the audience as we disappear backstage.

I push Chantelle up against a wall and lean in to kiss her. She kisses me back, but after a moment she pulls away abruptly, looking behind me. I turn around and see a man dressed in a bright orange cut-off tshirt.

“Hey babe. This is Katherine. Katherine, this is Sterling – my husband.” Both Chantelle and Sterling seem unperturbed by the strange situation.

“Hello!” says Sterling.

“Hi there,” I say. I glance back at Chantelle. “So, did you want to continue…?”

She glances at her husband, but I shake my head. “Not him. Just you.”

“I can just watch,” Sterling interrupts. “I mean, if that’s cool with you.” He sounds eager.

I look back at Chantelle, who shrugs. “Okay, sure,” I say. “But let’s go outside, where it’s dark. Everyone else is inside watching the show, so it will be more private.”

They follow me outside via the stage door. I waste no time in pushing Chantelle up against the side of the lodge. I’m feeling aggressive tonight. My left hand holds her there by her throat as my right hand scratches her leg gently, starting at her knee and trailing up her inner thigh. I watch her face as my hand snakes up her skirt, and… oh.

“No panties, huh? You must have been hoping for some action tonight.” She gasps as my fingers make contact with her wetness.

I hear the rustling of clothing behind me. I’d forgotten Sterling was there.

“You love showing off for him, don’t you?” I taunt as I penetrate her. “Teasing him, showing him what he can’t touch?” I remove my hand from her neck and lean forward to nibble  the sensitive skin just behind her ear. She moans. I blow softly into her ear and pinch a nipple through her dress. I can hear wet, slapping sounds behind me. “Your husband is going to cum watching his wife get fingered by a lesbian,” I whisper into her ear.

Music is blaring from the window above us, and I can hear people hooting, “Yeah Reginald, WOOO!” Chantelle’s breath becomes shorter. She’s getting close. I keep fucking her while I play with her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps. Her hands clench into fists.

I can hear Nate thanking Reginald for his act just as Chantelle starts moaning her orgasm. I guess she’s a screamer. She pounds the window frame as she cums, and I can hear Sterling moaning behind me. “That’s it, straight girl. Cum for me.” I grin to myself. I’ve still got it.

Fresh Meat

“Hey, Katherine,” Charlotte sidles up alongside me. “Have you met the new girls yet?”

“Yeah, briefly. I didn’t catch that one’s name–”

“Beatrice,” Charlotte interrupts.

“Right. And the other one is Chantelle. I met her earlier.”

“And?” Charlotte looks at me expectantly.

“And, she’s dumb as a bag of rocks. She’s only interested in partying, and said some pretty offensive things about us reopening the Saratoga Center next year. And yes, she’s straight,” I add, as Charlotte takes a breath to speak. “She’s here with her husband.”

“Pity. She’s cute,” Charlotte says, staring at her.

I shrug. “Anyways… we are all set for tonight, right? You and Artie are making sure everyone will be there?”

Yes. I told you not to worry,” Charlotte says.

“Here, what do you think of my speech?” I hold out a small pad of paper. Charlotte takes it from me. As she reads it, she clasps a hand to her chest.

“Katherine. This is perfect,” she says.

“I hope so,” I say.

Dim Stars

I’ve brought some silly stickers with me to the party, stars with a pattern of the American Flag. In good spirits, I walk around and put one on each person I see.

I spot Claire sitting off to the side with a woman I’ve never seen before. “You are a bright, shining star, and don’t you ever forget it,” I say gently.

“My star is burning out,” she says sadly.

“No. It’s brighter than ever,” I say fiercely. “You have much energy left, and you’re going to use it to change the world. No, we are going to,” I correct myself. Claire laughs through her tears.

“And I’ve never met you before, but I’m sure you’re a star, too,” I say, smiling at the stranger as I affix a sticker to the front of her shirt.

“This is Chantelle. She’s a pop star, and part of the Saratoga group. But she hasn’t been here in a few years. And this is Katherine,” Claire introduces us. “Katherine used to work for the Times, but now she’s part of the team that’s helping get this place re-opened.”

I shake Chantelle’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Man, it’s such a shame that you’re turning this place into a clinic!”

I freeze. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean, this is such a great party. It’s too bad that this is the last one,” Chantelle says.

“This won’t be the last party,” I say carefully. “We will still have parties. It will just be… different.”

“Well, yeah! That’s what I mean. You’ll have all those sick people here. Don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing is like, really noble or whatever,” she says, “but it seems like a waste to give up such a good party!”

“Uhh…” I’m dumbfounded. “Okay, well… it was nice meeting you.” I walk away before I say something I know I’ll regret.