Flash In The Pan - 15. A Night To Remember

One mid-winter evening, Drew sat on the edge of his bed, applying the finishing touches to his make-up. He used a phone screen as a looking-glass, moving it in an arc across his face until he was satisfied. Shutting the cosmetic case, he picked up the phone and his bank card.

The front door to their shared flat opened; a number of things were dropped onto the floor in the common area. Then the door was slammed closed.

“Anyone home?” The cheerful, Welsh voice belonged to Sam, one of the other students.

Drew contemplated keeping quiet; he'd hoped to slip out before one of his flatmates saw him. They knew he was gay; just not this gay. The decision was taken out of his hands.

A hefty, muscled guy dressed in muddy rugby kit tapped on his own partially-open door. “Drew! Hiya, mate. Thought you’d gone home for the vac?”

“Tomorrow, Sam.” He smirked. “I can’t miss the Christmas party at the Pink Penguin.”

The other guy snorted. “I’m guessing that’s a gay club?”

“Yeah. We don’t bite, you know. LGBT allies are welcome. You’d create quite a stir.” Muscle jocks weren’t his thing, but other people drooled. “Anyway, can’t you tell?” He stood up and turned round fully, showing off his specially-dyed hair, make-up, and favourite party clothes. “What d’ya reckon?” He did a twirl, his slim figure contrasting with his visitor’s.

“Wow!” Sam stopped leaning against the door jamb and moved closer. “That’s some serious war paint you’ve got going on.”

Drew pouted to show off his lipstick skills.

The guy gave him another appraising look. “Ehm… not sure how to say this, so I’ll just come out with it.” Sam's cheeks flushed with colour. “I can hardly tell whether you're a man or a woman. I mean, you look great and all…” His redness intensified.

Drew lifted an eyebrow as the other man ground to a halt. “Not the way I’d put it, but yeah, I’m letting my inner fem loose.” He looked down at his party gear. “I’m tired of being an acceptable gay man. Tonight only; or I might give my parents a shock for Christmas.” He shrugged.

Sam stared at him, fidgeting.

“Thanks for the compliment.” He shot the man opposite a winning smile. “Look, if you’re not hitting the pub with the rest of the team, why not join me?”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

Sam blinked. “OK… what should I wear?”

Drew giggled; his flatmate’s thought processes were obvious. “Whatever you like, sweetie; not everyone's gonna look like this. Make it tight, though. Give the assembled throng something to stare at. Me? I’m in search of husband material.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him. You’re cute.”

“Ooh – so galante.” Drew smirked.

Sam always made an effort around him and Drew was grateful. The rugby world wasn’t known for its queer acceptance.

“OK … Make yourself handsome. You’ll have to be quick though. Twenty minutes max.”

“Right; better get a move on.” Sam disappeared in the direction of the communal bathroom.

Drew opened his make-up bag – he’d thought of something else.

Later, sitting on the top deck of the bus, Sam felt self-conscious. He'd spotted several double-takes from other passengers. He and Drew made an odd pair: his jeans and paisley shirt next to a gold and silver lamé top and shiny trousers. The sparkly clothes matched the splash of gold dusted on Drew’s cheek. He couldn’t keep his eyes off his companion: the androgyny was both alluring and hugely disconcerting. One guy complimented him on his girlfriend before breaking off when he realised his mistake. Sam glanced at his flatmate’s lap – the lump wasn’t huge, but it was there.

“This is our stop.” Drew shifted in his seat.

He peered out of the window at the drab, night-time scene. All around were what appeared to be light industrial units or workshops, dark except for the security lights. Where was the club?

Once off the bus, Drew led the way to a building as nondescript as the others. Except this one had a bouncer outside.

The guy ogled them both. “Drew darling, you’re looking sensational! And who’s this hunk?”

An air kiss headed in his direction. Sam eyed the bouncer warily.

Drew came to his rescue. “Sam’s a friend. He’s straight, so you can look but not touch.”

“They all say that, duckie.”

Thankfully they were let in.

Sam stood at the bar, nursing a half of beer, mesmerised by the noisy, flamboyant, colourful crowd. Drew was off dancing. He watched as men, women, and all shades in-between enjoyed themselves. A number of revellers looked in his direction, giving him the eye. The attention was unnerving. Fortunately, nobody approached him directly. How he'd frame his answer if someone did, he didn't know. His face grew hot.

Amongst the lesbian crowd, Sam noted several principal boys. Elsewhere, his eyes were drawn to a number of pantomime dames whose costumes dazzled everyone. On the dance floor, it appeared Drew found his Prince Charming. That made him… Cinderella? Sam watched their sexy, entirely unself-conscious dancing; it was almost like a mating ritual. He wondered if Drew would leave him to make his own way home.

So what was his own role in this panto? He had no idea. Sam downed the remains of his drink in one. The only way to find out was to join in.