“Sass and sex,” I said, smudging the kohl lines. “Don’t take more shit than you’re already full of, sass always with a razor’s edge, and positively drip with sex.” It was one of the first things Vaguyna had taught me when she’d taken me under her wing after a solid three months of nagging. I was very persuasive when I wanted to be.
Whatever else could be said was cut off when Vince and Kori came up the stairs into the Queen’s Lair. I glanced at Kori in the mirror. I tried not to frown at her, taking in her pretty dress and her hair in perfect curls around her shoulders.
Corey Ellis, also Kori Ellis, was bigendered, or gender fluid. There were days he was Corey and days she was Kori, and while most didn’t even bat an eye at the change, I knew that the days Kori was there were days more often than not that she was feeling slightly unsettled about something. She’d told me once not long after we’d met that she felt safer when she was Kori, that it was almost like handing over the reins to someone else for a while. When she was Kori, her voice was a tad higher and slightly wispy. It could have easily been mistaken as being softer, but I knew the steel that lay in Kori’s backbone, and she didn’t take shit from anyone.
I knew well what she meant. Helena Handbasket was my safe space, my persona I could slip into when I needed to feel in charge, when I needed to be confident. Helena was many things that Sandy was not: Daring and brave. Primal and sexual. Funny and caustic. She could be witty and charming one moment and completely scathing the next, depending upon her mood or what the situation called for. Sandy Stewart was a tall, thin man with blond hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and lines beginning to form around his eyes no matter how much tightening cream he used. Ten years ago, he was the boy next door. Now, he was just the older version of the same.
I was her, but she wasn’t me, if that makes sense. Helena was everything that I could not be in the real world. Which wasn’t to say I was meek and mild, but very few people were close enough to see that Helena and I weren’t that far apart. Strangers and acquaintances could scarcely believe meeting me after watching Helena perform. At best, I was quiet. At worst, I could be cripplingly shy if not around people that I knew.
But it wasn’t the same for Corey and Kori. They were bigendered, and therefore transgendered, in that they felt comfortable being and living as either gender. Corey was Kori and Kori was Corey. They could live at home or go to school being either.
I was not transgendered. Helena was a performer, a personality carefully crafted and made for the stage. I didn’t dress like her except for when I needed to perform as her. That was a major difference between Kori/Corey and I. I knew how offensive it could be when people assumed she was nothing more than a cross-dresser or a drag queen. She was so much more than that. I, on the other hand, didn’t give two fucks if people thought I was transgendered. Helena wasn’t one for misguided opinions spouted by people who had no idea what they were talking about.
But here Kori was, as Kori, her safe space. Granted, today could have just been a Kori kind of day. I’d have to keep an eye on her to make sure everything was on the up and up.
Vince handed Paul his Skyy Vodka and cranberry and took a long pull from his own beer. “Hey, Charlie,” he said. “Did Sandy tell you he had sex dreams about me?”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, brushing a hair through a blonde wig.
“All of us have had sex dreams about you,” Charlie said. “That’s nothing new.”
Vince preened.
“I haven’t,” Kori said.
Vince pouted.
Kori rolled her eyes. “You’re not my type.”
Vince pouted a little more.
“Oh my god,” Kori exclaimed. “Look at that face! I just want to lick it.” She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “How did you do that?”
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. It started when I was a kid. I would pout and people would give me things like burritos or baseball cards. Then I got older and people would try and give me sex instead, and I just wanted another burrito.”
“It must be so hard being you,” Paul said.
“Not really?” Vince cocked his head. “I think being me is pretty great. I mean, being me got me you, so I must be amazing because of how awesome you are.”
“Wow,” Paul said. “I’m touched by the sentiment and also appalled by the ego. That’s never happened to me before.”
“I’ll fuck your butt later,” Vince promised.
“Ah, young love,” Charlie said. “In my day, we had to go to parks and do it in bushes if we ever wanted to get any.”
“That’s… surprisingly okay with me,” Kori said. “Maybe that’s what I need. Park sex.”
“You better not be serious about that.” Everyone in the room stiffened just a tad as they knew Helena had entered the room. “I would sure hate to have to spank your pert little ass in retribution.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kori said.
“Good girl. If you need some cock, you tell your dear, sweet Helena. I’ll make sure to find you some nice frat boy flesh to munch on.” I stared into the mirror, watching my eyes darken, my movements becoming more fluid and catlike. I slowly uncapped my lipstick and gave a kiss toward the Helena in the mirror. Vaguyna whispered in my ear: First the top lip, even, smooth strokes. Pout the bottom lip. Fill it in. Watch the lines. There. Now kiss, kiss. Perfect, darling.
Helena Handbasket had returned.
(Since last Wednesday. It was only Saturday now. Still dramatic, though.)
“Now,” I said, my voice all silk and smoke as I brushed my finger over my lips, smoothing out the flakes. “Paul, be a dear and help me with my wig, won’t you?”