Hell Has No Fury Like A Drag Queen'
Keywords: Drag, Has, Fury, A, Queen', Hell, Like, No,
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*The Morning After:*
Scott slowly awoke to his cock being stroked. Relishing the smooth skin pressed to his back, the silky leg thrown over his, and the lips nibbling at the nape of his neck, he was surprised that his wife was this amorous in the morning. Susan was no prude, but she also was not the sexual aggressor in their marriage. Indeed, their first sexual encounter was more date rape than seduction. As he pressed back against the body behind him he realized that it was not his wife, but Ruth. Ruth! The sudden revelation caused him to stiffen bodily.
"Good morning, Scott," Ruth said matter-of-factly, her fist firmly gripping Scott's rampant manhood.
"Don't tell me you're having morning after regrets." The question came from Phyllis, Ruth's wife. She was sitting in the bedside chair, watching.
Regrets Scott was having, in spades. Even more now that he realized that Ruth not only had her leg over his and her hand around his cock, but her rather impressive cock was firmly up his backside. He closed his eyes and relived the events of the last twenty-four hours.
*The Day Before:*
"Do you want me to shave you?" Susan asked, leaning against the door jamb to the bathroom. Scott had just stepped out of the shower, and was preparing to shave.
"I think I can handle this," he smiled. Early in their marriage he had let Susan shave him—one of those cutesy things newlyweds do. It turned out she gave a very professional shave, and on more than one occasion when he was due in court or had to meet with important clients he had let her shave him. In fact, whenever they had to have dinner with a senior partner or a client, Susan always performed the honors. But today's court appearance was not important. At least not to him. Just arguments over some procedural matter. The only people who would be in the courtroom would be other lawyers, the judge, the court reporter and the judge's staff. Scott lathered his face and began shaving.
"O.K., honey," she replied. "But you know you're going up against Ruth." Scott flinched from both the mention of Ruth's name and the nick it had just produced. Scott detected a certain smugness on his wife's reflection in the mirror as the small bubble of blood formed. As he looked for the styptic pencil, she turned and disappeared. From their bedroom he heard her call out. "I've laid out your dark blue pinstripe, honey. When you look good, you do good." Scott cringed at the homily, nearly cutting himself again. That was one of his mother's favorite sayings, and his wife had acquired it along with a variety of his mother's other habits and sayings.
"You gonna take all day? Breakfast is ready!" Susan yelled as Scott was dressing. What's gotten into her, he thought. A nagging wife Susan wasn't. A Stepford wife she wasn't either. Wanting to make sure he was close shaven, laying out his clothing, even selecting the suit he was to wear, fixing breakfast when usually he only had juice and a pastry. Now that he thought about it, she had awakened him a half-hour early. When he reached the dining room, he was greeted with the full Monty: juice, coffee, toast, butter, jam, eggs, ham, hashbrowns.
"This is just a motions hearing, not the O. J. trial," he said, indicating the spread on the table.
"You're going against Ruth, remember? I don't want you getting light-headed in the middle of an argument."
"Ruth Kranmeyer is very good, but she is not Clarence Darrow. She can be beaten." Scott was beginning to get angry with Susan.
"Well, you've never done it," his wife said. Scott shot her a dirty look. "We're having Ruth and Phyllis over for dinner tonight, and for once I'd like to be serving a meal without crow for the entree and humble pie for dessert."
"Ruth and Phyllis never acted that way," Scott protested. In fact, Ruth always been gracious in victory. Why not. Show me a gracious loser, and I'll show you a loser, they say. Besides, he and Susan were Ruth and Phyllis' best friends—some would say their only friends. Ruth had been a partner at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe when Scott arrived fresh out of law school. She had immediately taken to Scott, and had proven the perfect mentor. Scott played the grateful and loyal protégé, even maintaining an open friendship after Ruth left the firm. Ruth and Phyllis had been very grateful for that. Scott inherited Ruth's clients, and Ruth was always willing to provide insights on each one to Scott. Phyllis had been the perfect lawyer's wife—beautiful, gracious, excellent taste in clothes, a sparkling conversationalist, and most important to the wife of a young associate, never catty or imperious. Phyllis had taken to Susan as readily as Ruth had taken to Phil. Naturally this led to vicious gossip about the two couples' relationship. Especially when one considers the circumstances of Ruth leaving Hume, Goethe, Marlowe.
"Sorry," Susan responded, somewhat contritely. "It's just that Phyllis and I got a little bet on the outcome of today's hearing, and I don't want you to lose."
"What sort of bet?"
"You'll find out tonight," she smiled.
***
Ruth was just about to enter the courthouse when she spotted Scott at the foot of the courthouse steps; she waited as he climbed. Halfway up the steps, Scott recognized his former mentor. She was wearing a tan gabardine skirt suit with a medium blue shell, stockings and low-heeled pumps, looking more like a legal secretary than a lawyer. This evidently was not a high-priority hearing for her. Only the briefcase and the heavy-duty leather shoulder bag indicated her true status. "Morning, Scott," she said, extending her hand.
"Morning, Ruth," he answered, shaking her hand then holding the door open for her.
"I understand Phyllis and I are dining at your place tonight?" Ruth said, more a question than a statement.
"Susan sprung that on me this morning." Scott replied as the two strolled toward the courtroom.
"I didn't know you didn't know about this, Scott," Ruth responded. "We can postpone it, if you like?"
"No, no, Ruth," Scott replied. "It seems the girls got some sort of bet going on this hearing."
"Well, I hope Susan's a good loser," Ruth said as they entered the courtroom.
***
"As usual, an excellent meal, Susan," complimented Phyllis as they repaired to the living room for drinks, followed by Ruth and Scott.
"Thank you, Phyllis," Susan cooed insincerely. "I wanted Ruth to have a full stomach when she paid the bet."
"But Sue, the judge decided in favor of Ruth's client." Phyllis rejoined, with an equally insincere pleasantness.
"What are you ladies talking about?" Ruth interrupted. This cattiness between these two women was unnatural, and she was very disturbed by it.
"Drinks, anyone?" Scott joined in. Like Ruth, he too was surprised and unnerved by the interchange between Susan and Phyllis.
"The usual," said Phyllis. Susan indicated the same, followed by Ruth. Scott made the drinks and handed them out. By now all three were seated, leaving Scott standing. There was an awkward silence, broken by Ruth.
"Ok, ladies, what's up?"
"Well, we ..." "We bet ..." both Susan and Phyllis spoke at the same time. They stopped, then Phyllis spoke. "Well, Susan, this started with your remark, and you lost the bet, maybe you should explain."
All eyes turned to Susan, who fidgeted in her chair. "Well, ... two weeks ago Phyllis and I were shopping, and I was trying on this dress that I really wanted. When I got ready to buy it, Phyllis asked if they had it in larger sizes. When the salesclerk said yes, Phyllis asked for it in a size that I knew was meant for Ruth. Well, ... I tossed my dress on the counter and blurted out that I wouldn't be seen dead in a dress a drag queen was going to wear."
At this both Ruth and Scott looked at Susan, dumbfounded by her confession. Ruth stood and walked around the room, ending up at the bar. Ruth was born Harlan Kranmeyer and it was as Harlan Kranmeyer that he had become a partner at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe. It was his decision to live his life as a woman that had caused the firm to fire him.
"So that's how you think of me, a drag queen?" Ruth harumpfed. Turning to Scott, "You too?"
"I think drag queen is too strong a phrase," Scott said apologetically. Of all the partners and associates, only Scott had remained a friend. Of all the wives, Susan and a few of the senior partner's wives had still befriended Phyllis, but these soon also disappeared, except for Susan and two others whose husbands were in the closet.
"Gentlemen," Phyllis interjected, "Sue is not quite finished."
All eyes again turned on Susan. "Well ... I was really sorry for what I said. Phyllis walked out of the store, and wouldn't accept my calls for a week. When she did, she wouldn't accept my apology. We finally agreed to have lunch last Saturday to talk things out ... and ... and ... well, it didn't work out."
The silence was deafening. Phyllis had had a difficult time, but was rebuilding her social life around herself rather than her husband's career. She knew that Scott's friendship meant a lot to her husband, now Ruth, and she valued Susan's seemingly sincere friendship toward her. And she knew her husband was no drag queen! So she was extremely hurt by Susan's remark.
"Ruth," Phyllis broke the silence. "I told Susan that you're man enough to kick her husband's ass in court every time you oppose each other, and that you're man enough to satisfy both her, me, and every woman at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe anytime. And to prove it, when you won your next court bout with Scott, you would get to fuck both me and her, with Scott watching but not joining. ... By the way, Ruth is wearing the dress Susan wouldn't be caught dead in."
The dress was a cowl-collared, long-sleeve cream print, with bold abstract slashes of color, belted at the waist, reaching to just below Ruth's knees. Scott and Ruth looked at the women, then at each other, then back at the women. Ruth recognized how bitter Phyllis was and knew that there would never be any reconciliation between her and Susan.
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Keywords: Drag, Has, Fury, A, Queen', Hell, Like, No,