“In the bathroom?” Slim Trim asked.
“Some things a lady never discusses,” I said primly.
“I’ve heard you fart,” Agnes said. “You’re not a lady, trust me.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I am here now and everything is fine.” I picked up my margarita and took an I was pretty much just rimmed drink of pure satisfaction.
But leave it to Esteban Raymundo Moreno to point out what the others had missed. “What happened to your lipstick?” he asked.
I choked on my margarita.
“What?” I managed to say, recovering with as much grace and dignity as one can when tequila is coming out one’s nose.
Esteban frowned. “You were wearing lipstick when you left. And now you don’t have any on.”
Agnes narrowed her eyes at me. “He’s right.”
“He could have just wiped it off when he went to the restroom,” Slim Trim said.
“Thank you, Slim—”
“Or,” Slim Trim said, “he could have gotten it sucked off his mouth!”
Agnes, Esteban, and Slim Trim all gasped dramatically.
“I did nothing of the sort!” I said.
“Then how do you explain that hickey on your neck?” Slim Trim asked.
“That motherfucker,” I hissed. “He couldn’t just leave it at rimming me in the alley through my underwear, he also had to mark me too? I’ll kill him.”
“He did what to your where!” Agnes shrieked, causing everyone in the restaurant to stop what they were doing and stare at us.
Darren, of course, still looked smug.
“I was just kidding about the hickey,” Slim Trim said faintly.
Esteban made the sign of the cross over his chest and raised his eyes skyward.
“There’s no hickey?” I demanded.
“None whatsoever,” Slim Trim said.
“Well played,” I said, suitably impressed. “That was almost drag queen levels of deviousness. Way to go, baby doll.”
“Thank you,” Slim Trim said. “Also, you were fucking rimmed in the alley?”
There comes a time in every gay man’s life where he’s asked if he got rimmed in an alley behind a Mexican restaurant. It’s almost a rite of passage. When faced with such an overwhelming question, the instinct is to lie about it and say no, of course not, I would never do such a thing. But it’s a trap, because the whole point of being asked that question is to allow for a moment of honesty, especially when your best friends are dressed as a colorful pimp, an elderly woman, and a Hispanic cowboy.
I owed it to them to be
honest.
“Yes,” I said. “I was rimmed in the back alley next to a dumpster. And I liked it.”
“But,” Esteban whimpered, “that’s my brother.”
“Today has turned out to be a very eye-opening experience,” Slim Trim said.