A hand gently shakes you awake. The remnants of a dream involving the Parthenon, marijuana, and an ATM machine that talked slowly leave your mind. You open dark eyes to see her smiling face. It's far too early to be this happy, but one look at her, your Angel, and a smile graces your features.
Her happiness is contagious. It's one disease you never want to be cured of.
"I don't have class today…" You say, pulling her into your arms and on to the bed, "Let's sleep a while longer, huh?"
For a moment, she leans into you and you kiss her neck. Your large hands are around her waist in a tight embrace. Although you've got your arms around her, somehow holding her makes you feel safe, relaxed, free… your eyes start to close.
Suddenly, she pulls away and shakes her head at you with a small smile, "Too much day to enjoy. You'll waste it in bed. Come on."
Her hands go to her skirt to adjust it as she stands next to the bed. You groan and put your head into your pillow, but the minute she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, you know there's no resisting.
And why would you ever resist her anyway?
She pulls you out of bed with little effort on your part. Contrary to popular belief, Angel is very strong. Drag queen does not mean weak or insufficient. Far from it. The misconceptions that are in this world drive you mad.
"Come on." She says quietly, "I'll help you dress."
Not because you need help dressing, but because she wants to get you naked. And you want to get naked for her. Just thinking about having her sweet Angel hands over your body drives you wild.
She pulls your t-shirt over your head, fingers trickling over your abdomen, up your chest, and across your arms. A small noise, an inward take of breath in appreciation flows out of her lips.
"Mmm…can't ever get over this." She says sliding her hand across your chest and smiling.
"Can't get over you." And it amazes you how the cheesiest romantic fluff that used to make you roll your logical eyes seems so right as you dip her in your bare arms and kiss her softly.
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You find yourself in a coffee shop, holding her hand as she runs a nail across the glass covered display.
"Now which do you prefer," She begins, "Bagel or muffin?"
She was always asking these kinds of questions. Nothing in the world you shared with her was meaningless. Every preference, every thought… she heard you in a way no one else did.
"Bagel." You answer at last letting her hand go for the slightest of moments so she could count the money in her small pink purse, "You?"
She glanced at you, mid bill counting, "Muffin."
"You would." You say with a grin.
"Now Collins, baby," She smiles back, bumps you subtly with her hip, "Why do you say that?"
You shrug in response still grinning.
There was no reason at all.
You just wanted her to bump you like that.
You scan the glass shelf now, "What's your favorite kind of muffin?"
"Poppy seed."
"That would be your favorite."
She laughs and hits you lightly on the arm. You pull her by her waist to your side and kiss her on the cheek.
You've always hated poppy seed. The seeds got stuck in awkward places in your teeth, remained in your mouth much longer than the taste of the food containing them.
But this morning you shared a large poppy seed muffin with her.
It's the best thing you've ever tasted.
She leaned across the table, kissing your lips.
Well… maybe not the best thing.
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Mid-afternoon and you're strolling down the street, strong arm around her shoulders. You share a smile, a look that says everything you could never put into words.
She pulls your hand into an old store to look at old jewelry, antique furniture, and beaded curtains.
You aren't really looking at any of those items.
As clichéd as it may be, you only have eyes for her.
For a moment, she lets go of your hand to hold a small box in her hand, examine it. You know she's thinking of getting it for Mimi, whose birthday is approaching. She glances at you, box in hand. And you nod so she knows that you think Mimi will like it.
Not that she needs your approval.
Not that Angel ever needed anyone's approval.
Or that's what she would like everyone to think.
But you know her well enough now. Know the subtle change in her eyes when she looks in the mirror sometimes. You've seen the way she occasionally momentarily loses that bounce in her step when someone will point and laugh or sneer because they realize there's a penis under that skirt.
Angel has as many insecurities as anyone else… perhaps more, because she's more herself than anyone you've ever met. But unlike the rest of the world, Angel faces those insecurities everyday… head on.
She's you're hero for that.
The box is paid for and you leave the store, hand in hand.
You kiss her neck, stare into her eyes.
You're fucking gorgeous, y'know.
She smiles in response and slaps your ass.
You're not too bad yourself.
And suddenly you realize that neither of you have spoken all afternoon.
Words are overrated.
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Its early evening and the candles on the table are growing dimmer.
You decide there's nothing more romantic than sharing a small pizza.
In the corner of her apartment, your old record player is playing. She pulls you to your feet and you wrap your arms around her. Together you sway to the music in a slow dance.
You decide there's nothing more romantic than sharing a slow dance on your living room floor.
Gershwin's "Love Walked In" plays on the record player. And you smile, realizing suddenly that this song has been stuck in your head for weeks.
One look and I've forgot the gloom of the past
One look and I had found my future at last
One look and I had found a world completely new…
When love walked in with you.
You kiss the side of her lips, pull into the middle of them and even though you're still swaying and the music's still playing, you could swear the rest of the world has stopped.
Her hands are around your neck as the song switches into "Embraceable You". You can't help, but smile because every love song applies to you two.
Above all I want my arms around you.
You pull your arms more tightly around her, because after all… why wouldn't you listen to Gershwin? He's a fuckin genius.
My sweet embraceable you.
As the music slowed to a gentle stop, you stop swaying, but you're hands don't leave her waist as she pulls away to stare at you. She's looking at you with wild eyes and your stomach and groin tightens in harsh knots of desire.
And that strong drag queen pushes you against a wall, lips melding into yours, hungry hands at your pants already. You tear at her clothes as well, just as hungry if not more.
You've always been secretly starving… till you tasted her for the first time.
She's almost biting your neck and collar bone, and you moan with pleasure.
This is going to be hot.
By day she may seem innocent…
But by night…
She presses against you and pulls at your shirt.
By night she's one hell of a lover.
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If you had to measure your life in days like these...
If you had to measure your life in moments, in days like these...
In a hand to pull you out of bed every morning,
In poppy seed muffins and kisses over the table,
In small jewelry boxes and smiles,
In candle light dinners and George Gershwin,
In sex against a wall,
If you had to measure your whole life in days like these, in a love like this, you think you'd be okay with that.
Yeah, you could sure as hell measure your life like that.