-I don't own any of the lovely X-Men, much as I love them. I also don't own
the song, which, incidentally, is the Patti Labelle version of Lady
Marmalade, NOT the Christina and co version. This fic came because of the
New Orleans connection. And the French. Very sorry, Gambit-
Hey Sister, Go Sister, Soul Sister, Go Sister Hey Sister, Go Sister, Soul Sister, Go Sister
Some people choose drugs as escapism. Others pick alcohol. Some pick chocolate. Others still just plain escape. Remy LeBeau took an altogether different route. When he was pissed off, frustrated, or maybe even just bored, he would dress up. Dress up and sleep with men. What a way to be someone else!
He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said 'Hello,
hey Joe, you wanna give it a go?'
Tonight Remy was bored.The boredom began to lift as soon as he got into those lacy panties, with that ever-so-uncomfortable tuck. The dress he was planning on wearing would cling, and he didn't want a bulge. A bra, padded with tissue. Tissue felt wrong, but always looked better than socks. And then the dress. Black. Clinging in all the right places. With long, lush, auburn hair, Remy could have passed off as a girl. Which was exactly what he wanted. Give the boys a surprise when it was too late to turn back. Amusant. Très amusant.
'Mmm Hmmm Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya
Here
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
He never spoke much as his new persona. While he could pass off as a girl, his voice would never sound feminine for very long, even though his delicate parts were crushed into an uncomfortable angle to carry the illusion. Remy, cher- chère- you look belle, he thought. Tonight, though, he would not be Remy. Tonight, he was Madame Citron.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
A man was easy enough to find. A surly looking sort in a bar, drinking alone. Logan. Not that names mattered. Remy LeBeau in a dress would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
He savored her cool
while she freshed up
That boy drank all that magnolia wine
on the black satin sheets where
he started to freak
So nice to be undressed though. Remy appreciated how uncomfortable it must be for women all the time, and marvelled at how it was so easy for him to take a bra off a girl, yet get stuck in his own in the bathroom. His lover was drunk. It was always that way. That was how he liked them. It would ensure he got what he wanted. Despite how good he looked in a drag, Remy was male after all.
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Here
Mocca chocalata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Heh, Heh, Hehhhh
They all lost control. Remy may have committed many sins in his life but he was a good lover. The loss of the power of rational speech was a telltale sign. Remy LeBeau: A beauty in a dress, a tiger out of it. Fantastique.
Seeing her skin feeling silky smooth
Colour of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring till it cried More, More, More
Remy LeBeau had special abilities. He knew that. But, he always knew, the best out of all of these was this power. He knew he could earn a living doing this if he so desired. But he didn't want to. This was his escape from life. Being one hot sexy bitch was a hobby, not a career.
Now he's at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep More, More, More
During the day it was unthinkable. But night was Remy's realm. He had a collection of dresses, of underwear, of everything he could possibly need so that when he needed to let off steam he could do it in style.
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya here
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade
But tomorrow, Remy would look for women. Variety was, after all, the spice of life.
Hey Sister, Go Sister, Soul Sister, Go Sister Hey Sister, Go Sister, Soul Sister, Go Sister
Some people choose drugs as escapism. Others pick alcohol. Some pick chocolate. Others still just plain escape. Remy LeBeau took an altogether different route. When he was pissed off, frustrated, or maybe even just bored, he would dress up. Dress up and sleep with men. What a way to be someone else!
He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said 'Hello,
hey Joe, you wanna give it a go?'
Tonight Remy was bored.The boredom began to lift as soon as he got into those lacy panties, with that ever-so-uncomfortable tuck. The dress he was planning on wearing would cling, and he didn't want a bulge. A bra, padded with tissue. Tissue felt wrong, but always looked better than socks. And then the dress. Black. Clinging in all the right places. With long, lush, auburn hair, Remy could have passed off as a girl. Which was exactly what he wanted. Give the boys a surprise when it was too late to turn back. Amusant. Très amusant.
'Mmm Hmmm Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya
Here
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
He never spoke much as his new persona. While he could pass off as a girl, his voice would never sound feminine for very long, even though his delicate parts were crushed into an uncomfortable angle to carry the illusion. Remy, cher- chère- you look belle, he thought. Tonight, though, he would not be Remy. Tonight, he was Madame Citron.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
A man was easy enough to find. A surly looking sort in a bar, drinking alone. Logan. Not that names mattered. Remy LeBeau in a dress would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
He savored her cool
while she freshed up
That boy drank all that magnolia wine
on the black satin sheets where
he started to freak
So nice to be undressed though. Remy appreciated how uncomfortable it must be for women all the time, and marvelled at how it was so easy for him to take a bra off a girl, yet get stuck in his own in the bathroom. His lover was drunk. It was always that way. That was how he liked them. It would ensure he got what he wanted. Despite how good he looked in a drag, Remy was male after all.
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Here
Mocca chocalata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Heh, Heh, Hehhhh
They all lost control. Remy may have committed many sins in his life but he was a good lover. The loss of the power of rational speech was a telltale sign. Remy LeBeau: A beauty in a dress, a tiger out of it. Fantastique.
Seeing her skin feeling silky smooth
Colour of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring till it cried More, More, More
Remy LeBeau had special abilities. He knew that. But, he always knew, the best out of all of these was this power. He knew he could earn a living doing this if he so desired. But he didn't want to. This was his escape from life. Being one hot sexy bitch was a hobby, not a career.
Now he's at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep More, More, More
During the day it was unthinkable. But night was Remy's realm. He had a collection of dresses, of underwear, of everything he could possibly need so that when he needed to let off steam he could do it in style.
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Da Da Da
Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya here
Mocca chocolata Ya Ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade
But tomorrow, Remy would look for women. Variety was, after all, the spice of life.