The Show

Pete, the guy I shared my cubicle with, had insisted I must go to the new show in town. Now normally I prefer to watch a good movie or listen to some good music at home than go to a comedy show. Maybe I have a crooked sense of humor or none at all, even thou I do love funny movies and a good joke too, but the average stand up comedian rarely gets more than a smile from me.

The show was supposed to be a sort of travesty show but than again not. Pete had quite a hard time trying to explain what exactly it was. That made me a little curious and as there was no new movie in town, I decided to see what it was all about. The worst that could happen was that I spent a few bucks for nothing. But compared to the money one inevitably lost buying some new gear that was outdated almost the moment it left the shop, it was mere change anyway and God knows I had fallen for a sucker almost every time a new generation of stereo or computer or video popped up. No, a couple of bucks would not affect the balance of my account even thou I could have watched ten movies for the price of the ticket.

It was more a bar then a theater. I was a bit late and they gave me a seat at a table near the stage, which didn't make me feel very comfortable as being a more shy person I preferred to stay in the shadow, but what the heck, I said to myself. There's a first for everything. The music, a sort of sappy romantic violin affair like in one of the Hollywood classics, started to play. The light went down and a single spot illuminated the place we were to expect the appearance of the artist. I heard an exclamation, something like "Ouiee" and a big cloud of smoke preceded the apparition of a guy, if it was one, clad in a way, well what exactly was it? A drag queen? No, that wasn't exactly it. More like the caricature of a gay. I knew a couple of gays and neither of them looked any different or acted much different from us straights. Effeminate gays were from my experience more something out of a movie.

This guy almost overdid it, but apparently that exactly was the core of his act. He was smaller and just a little plump, exactly right for the role. He had jeans and a blouse on and heavy make up on a face that could have well belonged to a woman, except for the visible shadows of a beard. The inevitable feather boa and a scarf he had tied around his head in the fashion of the roaring twenties rounded up his costume. The more I watched him the more I admired his expertise. He alternated real feminine gestures with obviously fake ones. His voice changed pitch from deep womanly to quite masculine inflections exactly as with somebody who posed as a woman. One of his specialties really did fascinate me. He smoked a cigarillo, the one from which he had produced the big cloud of smoke preceding his apparition on stage. Mostly he would puff on it like a woman would do, blowing tiny stream with pouched lips, then, like forgetting his pose for a while, he would take a very masculine drag and inhale, then talk the smoke out, just like a heavy smoker would do, almost like mob characters in a movie. To my surprise I felt a strange touch of something near to arousal. Being close to the scene I got the full benefit of what went on, including the surprisingly spicy smell of his cigarillo and some of the perfume he had used as part of his role. The jokes he made were also wonderful. Most of the time the audience was roaring with laughter.

I had always seen myself as strictly straight or as the gays called it, hetero. Yet, this strange person up there cast a peculiar spell on me to the point I felt a bit of arousal. My parents had educated me in a strictly conservative way. In their eyes anybody that saw in sex more than an act to be performed only behind closed doors in the darkness of the conjugal bed, preferably without much enthusiasm, more a marital duty than something to give pleasure, was a bit weird if not pervert. Yet, even they had their little secrets. I had, as a child, never quite realized that they often used to take a bath together. The poor souls had probably felt guilty about it. The more they tried to set me on the right track. If they knew!

The show culminated in the usual involvement of somebody in the public.

'God, talking to such a lovely audience always makes my horny' the guy said in a high pitch perfectly emulating an elderly woman desperately craving for the touch of a young man. Then he bent down a little and shielding his eyes he scanned the audience.

'Now one of you wonderful man will have to give a poor girl a bit of relief. His eyes locked with mine. And he really had beautiful eyes. Whether by nature or with the help of cosmetics, I couldn't tell. They were hazelnut brown and almond shaped with long eyelashes and enhanced by expert make up. A little flaw in his setup, I had just time to think. A bit too perfect for a gay who unsuccessfully tries to pose as a woman. The next moment he had stepped down and dragged me by the hand on the scene he presented me to the audience like a trophy. Before I knew what happened, he gave me a big juice smooch on my lips. I should have been repelled. A kiss on the lips from a man! But instead I felt my cock twitch. What was wrong with me?

The curtain finally fell after standing ovations, which he rewarded by adding a few of his grimaces and poses. Entranced in a very peculiar state of mind I trotted home. I felt I needed the fresh air and preferred to walk the four blocks home instead of taking a cab. The show, more of course the kiss from the guy, had ripped open a wound I had carefully tried to keep closed for all my adult life. As an early teenager strange dreams and then fantasies had tormented me. I felt arousal where I shouldn't have. Even before I had the slightest idea what lovemaking was all about, I fantasized about sharing a bed with a naked woman that smoked a cigarette or cigar. I felt terribly ashamed about it and didn't dare talk to anybody about it. My parents were so square and conventional they may have sent me to an asylum if I had mentioned something like that. The priest? I had been educated as a catholic, like my parents, but then the Catholic Church saw in sex the second worst crime after murder or adultery. How could I talk to a guy whose official position was that the female orgasm was a perversion and should be avoided? At least they couldn't rule out the male orgasm, as it was required for the insemination, the only permitted purpose of sex in the first place.

All thru my teenage years I felt like a sort of future Charles Manson, suffering from a horrible perversion. Naturally I kept away from girls, the monster I was. The first turning point came when I heard some boys talking about masturbation. So others did that too? After some almost involuntary experiences, the first of which scared me to death, as I feared I had peed on me in my sleep, I had indulged on some sessions at night under the blanket, carefully washing my stained pajamas in the morning. I wondered why my mother, otherwise always more than ready to harass me whenever I had done something wrong by a scale of values I never understood, never ever mentioned it. Later on I gave up washing and slept in my stained pajamas. My mother, who would raise havoc for a B in school, still didn't say anything. I was absolutely baffled at first and had sometimes tried to abstain, but the sight of bouncing teenage breasts under the blouse of a schoolmate, or a young cutie at her early smoking experiments on her way to or from school would inevitably send me back to my guilty orgies under the blanket.

Till I was seventeen I never dared look at a girl, but as of lately I had found girls did not look away when they saw me, I made my first timid attempts. Even thou I felt an unnatural attraction to smokers, I kept away of them, maybe also because smoking teenage girls demonstrated the kind of self-assuredness that scared me off. I found that nonsmokers could arouse me too and for a while I had a number of girlfriends, working my way up from holding their hands, then by the waist till I dared my first kiss. After two years I finally lost my virginity and this time she was a smoker too.

The guilty feeling about my perversion persisted but even thou I tried to hide it, I now dared to target smokers on purpose and eventually steel a smoky kiss. Some flinched, others accepted it, but I never dared to confess and had to live with the frustration of never being able to really fulfill some of my kinkier fantasies.

The strange fascination this guy with his gay act had started in me resuscitated the old specter. I had often wondered if my attraction towards smokers or, to call it by it's real name, my smoking fetish, wasn't the symptom of a latent homosexuality. As in the eyes of the catholic religion homosexuality is a crime too, my peers had tried to indoctrinate me with their hatred of it as much as of any kind of so-called perversion. Had I dared ask my priest, he would probably have declared even the doggie style to be a sin. Well, the onset of my puberty had in a way freed me from religious constraints. Too big was the discrepancy between the claims of priests and the reality surrounding me and what I found in books and movies. Still, I could not totally discard my thrive for normality. I approved of any kind of sexuality as long as it was consensual, but still the idea I may be gay had a very nasty ring to it. Besides, I never felt attracted towards boys or men before. To see a man smoke meant nothing to me.

Next day Pete asked me how I had liked the show. Truthfully I admitted it was very good.� The hours dragged on endlessly while I dealt with all sorts of dreary tasks. At lunchtime I decided to go to a little luncheonette instead of the cafeteria of our company. It was warm outside and I liked to eat my sandwich at a table on the sidewalk enjoying the mild spring weather. Hopefully I might catch a glimpse at a beautiful smoker trying to get in enough nicotine to last her thru the next four office hours.

I wasn't disappointed. In fact I was luckier than I could have hoped for. At the next table sat a young woman. She was not of the slim kind but not really fat either, just a little stronger. She had nice round face, maybe a bit too stern to be a classical beauty, but still she was very attractive. Her hair was maybe a bit too short to my taste, but it looked nice nevertheless.

What she took out of her purse after the waitress had brought her coffee, made me jolt inwardly. I could only hope she wouldn't mistake my fascinated stare.

It was a cigarillo with a plastic tip. It reminded me of the ones the guy in the show had smoked. After she had lit it, the wind made the smoke come my way and I found it even smelled the same way. Probably the same brand, I thought. At first she just puffed on it, which was in fact the "right" way to smoke cigarillos, but it disappointed me a little. The act of inhaling was what turned me on most when a girl smoked. The more smoke she took in and the stronger the cigarette, the better. Then I saw that her puffing had been just the prelude. She took another big hit, opened her lips but as the ball of smoke was about to drift out of her mouth, she sucked it in with raising chest. She closed her mouth and then a feeble stream of smoke slowly emerged from her nostrils. After a while she pouched her lips and blew the remaining smoke out in an endless stream. Then she sipped on her coffee. After she swallowed she blew another small cloud of smoke to clear her lungs.

Fascinated I waited for what she did next. And she didn't disappoint me. Next she dangled it for a while. A few more puffs without inhale followed. Then she dragged again and took the cigar out, holding it between index and middle finger and the thumb on the end of the plastic tip, just like a cigarette, while she now performed the best French inhale I had ever seen. This time the smoke came out thru her nose, except the last little puff after she drank more of her coffee that again came out of her mouth. To my horror she turned her head and looked into my eyes. I could have been mistaken, but I thought I saw a faint smile on her lips. Worse even I thought I saw her purse her lips a little like a kiss. Was she mocking me or was she just flirting? Maybe she had interpreted my stare the wrong way and believed I disapproved. Whatever her motivation, I looked the other way.

Now I had a problem. I had finished my dish and the Coke and had to go back to the office but I feared the bulge in my pants would show too clearly. So the minutes passed and I grew worried. I tried to look the other way, but I still caught her in the corner of my eye and I couldn't help but watch her.

In the end I was ten minutes late and my boss gave me a disapproving look. The rest of the day passed even slower then first half. At five I decided to try and see the show again, if it wasn't sold out.

Luck was on my side and there I was again. Not sure whether I wanted another kiss from a man or not, I chose to sit in the first row again. Anyway, Vanilla, as that was his stage name, would probably choose another victim for the finale.

He wore the same or similar jeans but this time with a different blouse. Again it struck me how feminine his hips looked. His act was a bit different this day. He even gave it a different start. The stage was dark and then he flicked a lighter, lit his cigar and one could first only see the glow of the cigar describe a circle as he removed it from his mouth in very feminine circular move. Only then did the spotlight catch his face as he exhaled a huge cloud of dense white smoke.

'Hello squirrels!' was his introductory line.

'Huh, I envy men. What a pleasure it must be to scratch ones sack.'

The audience roared. The show was as good as the day before. Some of his jokes were the same, others quite different and I had a marvelous time once more. As the smoke drifted my way, I noted it smelled a bit different. Obviously another flavor, I thought. As the show went on and he paraded up and down, I often had the feeling he looked my way, but I could easily have been mistaken. My heart jolted when at the end he again chose me to, as he said, give a kiss meant for all the audience. Again I felt aroused by his presence and I thought that for the fraction of a second I felt the tip of his tongue on my closed lips when he kissed me.

There was no beating around the bush now, I thought. I had felt attracted by a man.� It had only taken the right man. So probably I was gay too as Vanilla most certainly was gay. Nice touch. A gay impersonating a hetero that played gay. All night I rolled around in my bed not able to sleep. What did this mean? How would it be to...? No titts to fondle or suck on, a hairy chest and... How did gays do it? Sideways or on top of each other and how did it feel to... I couldn't even bring myself to think of what I had been taught was a despicable act. Then again I did love to see and even more of course to fondle and suck on the breasts of a woman. A soft body in my arms and round firm buttocks in my crotch... Dammit, I did love women even thou I also loved to watch them perform a masculine act, the smoking. So maybe I was a bi, attracted by both sexes. Besides, even thou I could maybe imagine to penetrate "the wrong place" of a woman, doing that with a man? And to be penetrated like that by another man? No, unthinkable.

Luckily it was Saturday and I didn't have to go to the office. I decided to go for a walk, as I was too tired after a sleepless night to do any domestic tasks awaiting me. The fair weather still held so I headed for the nearby park. I had skipped breakfast so I got myself a hotdog and a coke and sat down on a bench near the little lake. The hot dog had tasted like hot dogs do all over the world, mustard, fat and not much else, but it killed my hunger. The Coke failed to refresh me and I grew drowsy. A voice woke me up, a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

'People shouldn't eat that kind of junk. It should be prohibited by law.'

Vanilla! He wore a simple jump suite now and without makeup he was just the average male. No trace of the mock feminine attitude he showed on stage. Only his eyes really were almost too beautiful for a man. Some other detail was amiss too, but I couldn't say what.

'I hope I didn't embarrass you too much, but you seemed like quite a decent person and clean too. I always take chances when I do that stunt on the end of the show, but as my public enjoys it very much, I daren't drop it. Maybe, if I make it to Vegas with a good contract I can afford a manager and a scriptwriter that has a better idea, but for now... And I owe you a double apology for taking advantage of you twice but the temptation was too big. After all I had tested you so...'

'No need for an apology. I have seen entertainers or show masters do worse things to their public. Anyway, I'm glad you found me trustworthy.'

'The let me express the hope it wasn't too yucky and I hope you didn't get it wrong. I didn't mean to... I almost got in trouble once when by mere chance I stumbled upon a real gay and I had a hard time getting rid of him afterwards.'

So he wasn't gay at all! Where did this leave me? Supposedly what I had felt meant I was at least bi if not outright gay. So I got aroused by a hetero. Great! But of course I wouldn't tell this guy anything of it.

'I understand. Well, you judged me right. I have no intention to stalk you.'

'Good to hear. But to return to the topic of good and bad food. Was that just a snack you had before your wife gifts you with her cooking skills?'

'No, not all. I just had a bad night and didn't feel like breakfast but then hunger got the better of me out here and I didn't want to go back into town. Normally I don't enjoy that kind of junk but it's better than starving. And to your information, there's no missus waiting for me. I'm an old bachelor.'

That made him laugh.

'Oh c'mon, you can't be more than thirty.'

'Actually twenty-eight. Hi, I'm Ron. Ron Summer.'

He extended a rather small and soft hand to meet mine. His grip was quite firm.

'Nice to meet you. I'm Vance. Vance Borrows, also known as Vanilla. And I'm twenty-seven.'

We smiled at each other and I couldn't but notice that he definitely had a bit of a woman. His face was rather round and he had high cheekbones. Except for his short hair. In his show he wore his hair kempt back, more like a woman, but now it was kempt in a male fashion.

'If you were a bit puzzled why I asked you about a missus, there was a reason behind it. Because I am on tour most of the time, I live alone. No woman would stay faithful to a man that's away most of the time and I couldn't ask woman to accompany me on my tour. I don't mind myself, as my needs are modest, but women are different. Truth is, I have tried both, but it didn't work out so... Anyway what I wanted to ask you is if you care to keep me company for lunch. I had to learn to cook if I didn't want to poison me with junk or ruin me in fancy restaurants. So I always try to rent a small. It's not far from here. What do you think?'

Well, if he didn't exaggerate his talents, I could do with a good meal. Same as he I had learnt to cook on similar reasons. I hadn't have time to find friends as I had moved into this town for only six month because of the job and I'm not the social type.

We walked to his lodgings, a small apartment with a tiny kitchen and a bigger room for everything else and a bathroom, which had only room for a shower. He offered me a drink and then he proceeded to prepare the meal.

'I hope you don't mind a simple omelet? I can assure you it will be delicious.'

'Whatever comes handy. I'll trust you.'

'Good. By the way, I hope you don't mind if I smoke. I'm afraid I do suffer of this nasty habit and ever since I started with this show four years ago, I have traded in my Marlboros for these cigarillos. Originally I used them to give Vanilla a special touch, you know like kinda underlining he is still a male with all his pretended effemination. But then I found I liked them so much, I now smoke them all the time.'

'Oh, by all means, go ahead. I certainly don't mind the smoke.'

'Can I offer you one then?'

For a moment I was really tempted. Why was that, out of a sudden? Except when a girl smoked her cigarette after, when I had occasionally joined in but without inhaling, more like a gesture, I had never smoked. Then only time I had tried to inhale, it had made me feel so sick, it had scared me off for good. I preferred to leave that to the girls. Why then and tempted by a male, not a woman? Or was it a sort of flashback because I had seen that yummy young woman two days ago, smoking the same brand? Whatever it was, I declined.

'No thank you, should I ever decide to smoke, I would try a cigarette and a light one too. I doubt I would survive one of yours.'

'True. They are quite strong, the more so if you inhale. I have chosen them for optical reasons without much thinking. Only afterwards I found out they are made of pipe tobacco, intended for pipe smokers. And pipe smokers do not inhale normally. But I have started smoking very early. My sister has taught me to smoke when I was seven or eight.'

Gruesome, I thought. Again a strange sort of excitement took hold of me. If I girl would have told me that, I would have been in trouble with the obvious bulge in my pants, but this was a man!

'I can imagine what you think. Almost criminal, indeed, but then my sister was only ten herself. She sure didn't know better. In a way my mother was responsible. She was heavy smoker herself. So when she drove us to school or back she used to ask my sister to light her cigarettes for her, ever since my sister was maybe five or six. You can imagine my sister was a smoker before she was ten. My mother of course wasn't very happy, but to her smoking was kind of natural. She came from tobacco country, where everybody smoked without giving it a second thought. So before my sister was ten, she had her own pack of cigarettes and soon needed a fresh one every day. As soon as my mother had accepted that, she even helped my sister find her preferred brand and my sister Denise settled on Newports Menthol. Those days nobody ever thought about nicotine or tar figures. Anyway before I was nine, my mother supplied both us girls with cigarettes. Oups, did I say girls?'

He actually blushed because of his mistake.

'I have to take care that my role doesn't take me over. Not for long and I'll be acting like a gay even in private.'

He shook his head. True, I thought, on and off, he did look effeminate, even thou not like on stage. Whether it was the way he removed the cigar from his lips, or the way his hips wobbled sometimes, there was something funny about it. He had claimed not to be gay, but he may have lied about it. Or maybe, like me, he wasn't aware of it or didn't want to accept it.

�

�'My favorites where the same my mother smoked, Marlboro 100, the red ones of course.' he went on with his story. 'Before I was eighteen, I smoked at least two packs a day and I was mighty proud of it. On my eighteens birthday I even smoked an entire Jeroboam, inhaling all the way. In college I often used to show off and smoke a cigar and couple of cigarettes in parallel. So you see I was well prepared for these. Besides they are rather mild. I doubt my two or three five packs amount to more than three packs of Marlboros.'

Unlike on stage, where he made a show of alternately puffing in a sort of ladylike fashion then, like forgetting his pose took a very masculine deep inhale, he now inhaled regularly like he was smoking a cigarette, except he always puffed a bit before he inhaled. This of course was due to the fact that cigars unlike cigarettes don't burn on their own, not being chemically treated.

The omelets were ready and we climbed the two stools in front of the tiny bar that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the room. The omelet was fantastic. I enjoyed it together with the wonderful French bread he had provided. A beer rounded up the meal.

Somehow the strange idea popped up, that he might be the perfect mate for a more masculine gay, as to my knowledge among gays there are two types. Some are sort of overly emasculated, dressing in chains and leather and others are destined to play the woman in the couple. But then this might have been a prejudice on my part. Besides, if I was indeed gay, where did I fit in this picture? Or maybe...?�

His proximity made me feel uneasy. The strange attraction he exerted on me, made me sweat. As if he felt it, he stood up and cleaned up the remnants of our meal.

'Care for a desert? I have some good ice-cream here, if you're in for hazelnuts and cocoa.'

'No thanks. I'll stick to beer if you don't mind.'

So we spent a couple of hours chatting in a relaxed atmosphere, till I found it was time to leave.

'I'll be around for another two weeks, so feel free to drop in anytime.' he said as we shook hands. 'I could use some company and if you enjoyed mine... If you don't find it odd, I can cook for you sometime. A real dinner this time. I also found a wine-store with quite a good assortment.'

'I'd love to.'

The day after tomorrow? At seven?'

'Yes. I look forward to it.'

'What do you prefer, white or red, if you drink wine at all, that is?'

'Red, please, if it's not too much trouble.'

The two days till I was to visit him again were filled with all sort of gloomy thoughts, then again a serene surrender to what I believed to be my newly discovered "true nature", then dark, guilty brooding, till I didn't know what to believe any more. I went to a movie on Sunday. It was a waste of time, as I couldn't really concentrate on the subject of the movie, my thoughts wondering off all the time. The only interruption in my brooding was at exit from the movie theater. A couple of steps ahead I saw the cutie I had seen in my lunch break. She lit up the moment she stepped outside and of course again she smoked her cigarillos. Her thrive to get as much smoke from it in a short time warmed my heart. Obviously she smoked them all the time. Alas I knew out of experience I was no good at talking up to an unknown just like that, the more so as in such situations I was way too excited to bring up a complete sentence. I had made an as of myself under similar circumstances a number of times. This time however I had the unexpected chance, as she talked up to me. Who would have expected that? Still, there was Vance, or Vanilla, as he called himself. Nevertheless, I sized her up, hoping not to be too obvious. As I had seen three days earlier, she was more on the heavier side, although she seemed petite at the same time. Her legs, especially her calves were quite strong but still nicely shaped and very feminine. She wore a light summer dress and as far as I could make out she had a nice waistline and medium sized firm breasts.

'Excuse me Sir, but could you to tell me the best way up town? I'm new here and I'd like to see a bit more of your wonderful city.' The tiny clouds of smoke she puffed while talking, driven away by the light wind, looked delicious. I had to concentrate not to get in trouble.

'Well, it's not very far from here, maybe fifteen minutes if you're not in a hurry. If you want, I can walk you there, so you don't get lost, all thou our glorious metropolis isn't all that big, so you can't really get off track.' I was surprised at my own boldness. For all I knew she could have been married with three little kids, or awaiting the arrival of her lover, or a lesbian with no mind for men. Lesbian? It seemed I had grown an obsession. Gay men outnumbered lesbian women by far, I had heard. The probability to stumble upon one was rather small. Besides true lesbians would certainly prefer to ask a woman for directions. Unlike a lot of gays, who could grow friends with women easily, I had heard that lesbians had a far more hostile attitude against males.

'Fine then. I gladly accept your offer. I only hope you don't mind the smoke of my cigar. I'm afraid I have this nasty little habit.'

'Oh not at all. I find it smells very good so you needn't worry. Go ahead and smoke.'

'Hey, nice. Most people nowadays think worse of smokers than of criminals and act like a bit of secondhand smoke kills you on the spot. And you are right. One of the reasons I took a liking to my Middletons is the wonderful smell. Although I'm afraid it didn't improve my love life. Oh sorry, I shouldn't bore a stranger with my petty problems.'

'If you allow, you don't bore me at all. A lovely lady like you?'

'Wow, a gentleman of the old school? How come you're alone on a Sunday afternoon? I mean, with your manners I should think you would have to fight off women with a stick.'

Flirtatious? Under normal circumstances I would certainly have taken up the challenge, the more so as she was the kind of smoker I had unconsciously dreamt of. Those cigarillos with the plastic tip looked outstandingly elegant in her hand and between her lips. The amount of smoke she extracted of them was truly remarkable and the alternation of puffs and inhales, sometimes straight, then again playful French or snap inhales, were absolutely thrilling. Some smokers have an air of guilt on them, smoking in an offhand way, like they reluctantly had to give in to their addiction. Not so this cutie. The pleasure she gained from each hit clearly showed on her face in a transfixed smile. But it was the wrong timing.

We had reached the very center of the city and she invited me to join her for a cup of coffee on the terrace of a little luncheonette, in fact the same one I had seen her the first time. I wondered briefly if she had remembered me or her approach outside the cinema had been a random one. But again my sorrows got the better of me and even thou I accepted her offer, I told her I had an appointment and had to leave her after the coffee. It hurt me to see the touch of disappointment in her eyes, yet I thought it would be best that way. It relieved me somewhat that I saw she regained her former serenity quickly. I decided to stay at least long enough to see how soon she would stub out her cigarillo. I had read somewhere that the last third of a cigar or cigarillo accumulated a lot more nicotine then the first two thirds, So I was curios to see how high her tolerance had built up, a sign of how heavy a smoker she really was. She didn't disappoint me. She really enjoyed it till the glow almost reached the plastic tip. Such a pity I wasn't in the right mood. When I rose to leave, she was playing with the pack of cigars she had on the table, like she contemplated lighting another one. I almost gave in, but then I told myself it wouldn't be fair to her. I was on the verge of becoming a bisexual and certainly that was not what she expected.

'So you do have to leave?' she asked with regret.

'I'm really sorry, but I just can't stay. I wish I could. It was really nice meeting you.'

On an impulse she stepped around the table and kissed me. I returned her kiss with all the passion I had suppressed till then. God, how good she tasted and smelled! Our kiss seemed to last forever. I opened my eyes to have a last look at her beautiful eyes. It struck me like a lightning. She had almost the same eyes like... Well, it couldn't be, but it was like I was looking into the eyes of Vanilla. Not Vance in his private appearance but in his mask on stage. She mistook my reaction and withdrew.

'I'm sorry. I know I must smell horrible after the cigar. Excuse me please.'

I could still smell her terrific breath, loaded with the flavors of her cigarillo, with residues of innumerable cigars and cigarettes she undoubtedly had smoked in her life. This kind of smell is what I love so much in a smoker.

'No you shouldn't apologize. You may not understand it, but that certainly did not repel me. Call me a pervert, but I enjoyed it. There are other things troubling me. I'd better leave now. You deserve better than me.'

She fell on a chair and I saw she reached for a cigar and lit it. I thought it would be the last I would see of her.

With the invitation for the next day, I had not planned to go to the show again, but I found myself on the way before I even knew what I was doing. The first row was a must of course. I didn't know whether I wanted him to kiss me again or not. Well, at least he had the opportunity to use a person he already knew.

This time he started with the pose of a nervous woman in a nic fit and I couldn't but note his expertise again. If there was something new, it was that he seemed to stress the feminine attitude more than before. His jokes were excellent thou and the audience was quite satisfied. At times I thought he looked directly at me. I couldn't really make much of the feeling his eyes expressed. Anger, distress or maybe just concentration the act demanded of him?

The inevitable finale came and this time there was no mistake. We had a real French kiss, brief, but intense. I noted something that I couldn't place right than, but it did seem strange. The shadow of a beard I had seen on his face turned out to be phony. In one place it had smeared off! Then I remembered that when I had met him in private, his chin had looked so smooth like he had never grown a beard. But my mind was distracted by other thoughts.

I might have waited for him there, to talk it out, but I fled. I had actually enjoyed kissing a man! The old repulsion against gays my catholic education had planted in my soul, rose it's hideous head again and I felt sick. But then again, I said to myself it was absolutely stupid to feel that way. Then what about Vance? He expected me for dinner the next day. What would he think of it? Was he gay or not? What if the same conflict tore him apart too?

Then for a while I thought I had found a straw to cling to. Maybe I had enjoyed his kiss because he had tasted and smelled of cigar smoke. But then what would that mean? I had till then seen myself as a more or less straight male who just needed the extra kick from seeing a woman smoke. What if I was a real fetishist? One that needed not a sexual partner but just the object of his desire. I'd rather be gay then, I said to myself. Besides I was by no means a virgin. I had enjoyed making love to women often enough. True, the mere idea she was smoker did help enjoying it but I had made love to them just like any "normal" man would.

The merry-go-round in my head kept me awake all night. At work, I hardly had time to think, but I doubt I did my work very good. At least the hours passed in a blur and five pm arrived earlier than expected. In a way I was afraid what was expecting me but on the other hand I could hardly wait to finally clear things up. I wanted to know!

I arrived twenty minutes early, so eager was I to get some answers. After I stepped from one foot on the other outside the building for a minute that seemed to stretch forever, I decided to go in. It may have been impolite, but I simply couldn't wait another second.

As somebody left the building and allowed me in, I rang directly at his door. The door opened and before I even could say Hi, I found myself in front of the young beauty of the day before. For a second I felt my knees melt.

'Come on in.' she said in a rather neutral tone. 'You should have come on time' she added reproachfully and took a double hit on the cigarillo she held.

I was unable to move and just stared at her with an open mouth. Was she his lover? Then why the kiss? Or had I, without knowing, pressed that kind of kiss on him yesterday? What was going on here? Then I found the explanation! Of course! He had mentioned a sister. A bit older then himself, a dedicated smoker from her preteen time. It fitted! The same eyes, even her voice I now realized resembled his. Yes, the resemblance was clearly there.

'What's so funny?' she said, still quite distressed. Had her brother mentioned me as a potential lover and she was disappointed to find the guy she had flirted with?

'Oh, sorry, it's nothing. Actually I had a very funny idea for a moment. But I understand now. You are Vance's sister.

'Yes...' she said with hesitation in her voice. I felt like touching her and so I extended my hand. She pushed it aside.

'Don't you think we have to talk? Yesterday I had a feeling you weren't disinclined. Then, even thou I thought you enjoyed my kiss, you left like haunted. I was at the show last night and when I saw how you kissed Vance, I was very disappointed. Tell me than, what is it with you? Are you gay or bi or what? Don't you think I have any reason to be mad?'

I just stared at her, not knowing what to say. She had just asked the questions that had haunted me too. She looked at me expectantly, dragging hard on her cigar. Then, as she saw I had no intention of saying something, she rose.

'Maybe you should clear that up with my brother first.' she rose and disappeared to what seemed to be the bathroom. I wondered where he was. Maybe they talked to each other.

After endless minutes, Vance appeared. But how did he look? He wore make up like on stage, or to be more precise not exactly like that. He had made up like a woman and now, except for the hair and the clothes he looked like his sister. Even the cigarillo he held looked like it was the same, even with lipstick marks like his sister had left on hers.

Then, finally, the spell was broken. How could I be so stupid! There was no sister, or at least she had never been here! With determination I ripped open the blouse he or better she wore. I found what I had expected. A bandage to compress her breasts so they didn't give her away in her role as a gay male. I started to laugh like crazy. She had a rather sheepish expression on her face. Then she took my head into her hands and we kissed heavily. She dragged me to the couch and held my hands in hers.

'Now!' she exclaimed. 'You still have some explaining to do. First, and please, the truth, are you gay or not?'

That now was the most difficult question in my life. I had been attracted to what turned out to be in fact a woman, but at that time I had believed her to be a man.

'Well, you had me almost believe I am gay, but till I saw your show for the first time, I have never before felt the slightest inclination towards my own sex. So where does this put me? All I can think of is that something in me has from the start felt you were a woman and not a man. I hope this is the explanation. I can only hope this is enough for you.'

'It will have to do. C'mon and kiss me, you fool.'

The End

6/13/04