Driving away from the castle, Brad found himself immersed in a thick, uneasy silence. Janet sat beside him, her thoughts inscrutable. Shortly after Columbia and Magenta's departure, Riff Raff had taken Rocky to Transsexual, leaving them to grapple with the aftermath of the most peculiar events that had unfolded in a mere couple of days. The wheels turned on the road, as did the whirlwind of confusion inside Brad's mind. Images of descending elevator, fishnets and dead coming back to life, like a disconcerting rose-tinted slideshow. The road ahead stretched into the unknown, and his thoughts spiralled. How had they ended up tangled in this nonsensical narrative, and how would they ever make sense of the inexplicable?
"Take the next exit," Janet finally said, disrupting his rumination.
His eyes left the road for a second to cast a puzzled glance on her. "But that's the one leading to the airport… I thought you might want to go to your parents'."
"That was before I learnt I had to carry this pregnancy to term."
Her response didn't need further explanation. Suddenly, the harsh reality slapped Brad: there was little chance that the good reverend Weiss— one of the most respected figures of Denton — would ever welcome his out of wedlock impregnated daughter with open arms, let alone be receptive to the disturbing truth behind the whole affair.
"I… I understand. But why the airport? I can take you to Ralph and Betty's house."
A bitter rictus stretched across her lips. "So Mrs Hapschatt parades her marital bliss in my face? That's the last thing I need right now."
"Then what do you need, Janet? Please tell me," he implored, as guilt and disarray seized him violently.
"I need a ride to the airport."
"Wh—"
"In silence," she cut off.
Brad sighed as he complied with her request, his shoulders slumping with the weight of responsibility. While they drove towards the airport, he couldn't help but steal occasional glances at her. Her profile exuded a newfound determination that she had rarely displayed destination came into view, and he pulled the car into a parking space. The surroundings were saturated with travellers, each lost in their own world, oblivious to the turmoil that had engulfed Brad and Janet's lives. He turned off the engine and turned to face her, searching for the right words to say.
"I know things are incredibly complicated right now, but it doesn't mean we can't sort this out."
"They're pretty simple to me," she retorted, still avoiding his gaze. "In fact, I plan to stay at my cousin Susan's for a while."
"Susan? But she lives across the country!" Brad protested.
"I'll give birth there, put the child up for adoption, and fall back on my feet. Get a degree, maybe," she continued as if he never spoke.
"It doesn't have to be this way! You could stay with me," he soothed desperately. "We can still have this baby together. Have a life together."
For the first time in days, a smile graced her face. "You've always been so protective of me. Looking back, perhaps it was your way to… compensate." Brad looked at her in disbelief, trying to figure out what she could possibly mean by that. "But how I loved that," she said, her eyes glistening.
"Is that a yes?"
She responded to his question with another one, enunciated calmly, confidently. "Why did you propose to me?"
"What?"
"Answer me."
He frowned, his mouth dry, pondering what she expected him to say. "I… I knew the time had come. We've been together since high school, it was the only logical thing to do."
She gazed down and nodded. "And why did you save Frank?"
"How could I not save him?"
The words escaped his lips before he could even fathom them.
"Now let that sink in, darling," she said as she took his hand in hers. "Let that sink in, and you'll see why it's a no."
"I thought I was doing the right thing," he murmured, his eyes moistening with regret. "I just wish—"
She placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "I wish we both find what's truly meant for us. That's all that matters."
Tears streamed down his cheeks, obscuring his vision with a watery trail. Yet, within this emotional tempest, clarity began to emerge.
"I've ruined everything, haven't I?"
Janet skimmed his cheek, gently turning his head so he could face her once more. "And I thank you for that."
Her touch, once comforting, now felt like an anchor weighing him down. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, a farewell kiss that tasted like salt and understanding, and exited the car, her form disappearing in the bustling crowd.
Well, I'm not dumb but I can't understand
Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man
Oh my Lola
La-la-la-la Lola
La-la-la*—
Brad slammed the radio button and gazed in the mirror as he finished his morning ablutions. The familiar tune vanished, leaving an eerie void. He turned away from his reflection, reluctant to meet his own eyes, and stepped into the hallway. The apartment bore the scars of a bygone era, a life that had crumbled in the wake of revelations and difficult choices. The walls, once adorned with framed photographs of happy moments, now stood bare, so much so he was half-convinced those moments had been but a figment of his imagination. He had spent weeks gathering Janet's belongings, each item a stark reminder of what could never be again. Her clothes, her books, her knick-knacks – they had all been meticulously packed away, leaving room for whatever the future had in store for him. The empty half of the closet that used to be bursting with her delicate wardrobe called for new shirts and perhaps, jeans. After all, he could use a revamp. Far from looking barren and desolate, the bookshelves that once held her favourite novels were now adorned with plants of all kinds, a promise of growth and renewal. He had even started to experiment with cooking, trying his hand at recipes he had never dared to attempt before. The kitchen, once a place of shared meals, had become a lab for his culinary explorations. One could have expected his mood to be clouded by loss, engendering a storm on his daily life. Brad took the opposite stance, embracing the change, welcoming the new energy that flowed through the space.
Yet, at night, alone in the darkness, he was blinded by what he could not forget. Images as vivid and vibrant as the shade of lipstick that had smeared his flesh more than once. Even in his sleep, he could almost feel the phantom touch of hands that had explored every inch of his body, sometimes with gentle reverence, sometimes with unhampered savagery. So far, he saw himself as a vaillant sailor, resisting the siren's call that beckoned him into uncharted waters. As time went by, however, what originally belonged in the realm of nocturnal musings started to pervade his days as well. The ache of longing was a constant companion, a silent yearning that had left an indelible mark on his soul.
One evening, after an excruciatingly long and useless meeting in the office, Brad had reached a crossroads… A literal one, while being stuck in traffic on his way home. He looked left and right, and his fingers traced the contours of his own lips, as if reliving the sensation of an ardent kiss. The woods would surely provide him with a shortcut. And if, by chance, he came across a certain castle… What was the worst that could possibly happen?
Brad wandered through the cavernous and dimly lit edifice, the silence only broken by the distant sound of his own footsteps. Emptied from his eccentric occupants, the place, for all that, had not lost its lustre. As he turned a corner, his heart quickened at the faint sound of a voice, distant yet unmistakable. That one unique timbre that sent shivers down his spine. His steps became more purposeful as he followed the sound, guided by a magnetic pull that seemed to transcend reason. The voice grew louder, drawing him deeper into the heart of the castle. The occasional glimmers of candlelight flickered on the walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to taunt him. The anticipation and longing swelled within him. Finally, he reached a grand, ornate door, whose intricate carvings and heavy wooden panels loomed before him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand trembling as he reached for the doorknob. With a deep breath, he pushed it open.
The room was an extension of the owner's persona, from the midnight blue carpeted floor to the opulent wall hangings, all the way to the mirror headboard. At the centre of it all, a round bed adorned with satin sheets and plush velvet cushions took the spotlight—a throne worthy of his princely charm. Frank, seated at a vanity table in a fur-trimmed nightgown, hummed contentedly while applying hand cream. However, as the door creaked open, revealing Brad's presence, the flowing stream of all-consuming sound from those painted lips came to an abrupt halt.
"Well, well…" the voice was a sultry whisper, a seductive invitation. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Brad hesitated for a moment, not sure how to take Frank's words. "Oh… You didn't?"
"Mmh, as a matter of fact, I did." Frank retorted as he turned around on his bench, fixing his gaze on him. "I just liked that line," he chuckled mischievously.
"Am I that predictable?" Brad asked, his gaze wavering downward.
"I'd rather attribute it to my stellar intelligence. But, to be fair, I expected you a little sooner," the scientist crooned, crossing his legs and causing the fabric of his robe to reveal a tantalising hint of thigh. "Judging by this lovely beard of yours, it's been, what, a month since you left?"
Brad swallowed hard and nodded before confessing, "Janet's gone."
Not that her presence had ever deterred the beloved alien from pursuing his wanton designs, but still, it was an information he found relevant to share.
"Why, I know. She bid me farewell with a headbutt, remember?"
Brad took a deep breath, his eyes locked with Frank's, who remained a mesmerising silhouette in the dim light. "No, I mean… It's over."
"Assuming it ever started in the first place," Frank retorted with a smirk. "Do you need to talk about it?"
"Um, I don't have much to say… other than it was inevitable." It was the first time he had admitted it out loud, and hearing the words from his own mouth felt strangely liberating. "Besides, I don't want to bore you."
A coy smile curled on Frank's lips as he got up and sauntered closer, closing the gap between them. He spoke soothingly, "You, boring me? Never."
"Really?"
Brad's breath hitched as Frank's fingers brushed his jawline, and the words rang into his ear, "Not even if you tried."
He surrendered to the touch, his own desire rocking him to the core. A lump formed in his throat, and he uttered, "I thought you were gone. That you'd returned to your planet."
Frank's fingers shifted to comb through Brad's hair with a slow, sensuous caress. His voice, a husky murmur, lingered in the air between them. "Earth holds a different kind of attraction—one I simply can't resist."
Brad's heart raced as he gazed into the enchanting green abyss, his breath hitching. "But you're not going back?"
The transvestite's smile widened as he poured a lustful promise in his ear, "Not when there is so much to explore right here, my dear."
"It's been tormenting me, Frank…"
"Torment can be quite delicious, wouldn't you agree?" the latter inquired playfully. "Let me guess: you don't know what's come over you, huh?"
Summoning every ounce of his courage, Brad declared, "I've always known. Just like I know I can't stay away any longer."
To his astonishment, Frank's typically unshakable demeanour cracked, and his cheeks turned pink, revealing a shockingly endearing side that he had never witnessed in the man before.
"Well, erm— Brad Majors, always the wordsmith. How positively thrilling," he stammered, seemingly thrown off. "Though, usually, I'm the one who makes you blush…"
In turn, Brad entangled his fingers in the black curls, gently tilting Frank's head back. He leaned dangerously closer, their lips almost touching and he cooed, his tone teasing and defiant. "Consider your reign of terror is over, Dr. Furter."
In that moment, everything faded into insignificance, and all that mattered was the intoxicating connection he finally gave himself over. Their bodies pressed together, and Brad's lips descended upon Frank's, capturing them in a hunger-fueled kiss. Shared yearning and pent-up emotions collided, unleashing what had smouldered for far too long.
"Look who's all flustered now," Frank purred as soon as their mouths parted. In an achingly slow move, he reached for Brad's belt, which landed on the carpet in a muffled sound. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you've been waiting for this." With no other response, Brad simply nodded as he watched his shirt glide off his shoulders. Frank inquired fervently, punctuating his question with a tug at Brad's hair, exposing his throat, "Haven't you?"
"Yes," Brad admitted breathlessly, his capacity for coherent speech temporarily usurped by the rush of lust. "Y-yes, I have."
"And I bet you've thought it through and through," the crossdresser went on, his words followed by a myriad of kisses and bites leaving a fiery trail on Brad's neck.
"Yes," he repeated, his knees weakening.
His answer was met with Frank tracing a line on his jeans, following the seam on his crotch and eliciting an appreciative sigh from him. "Yes what?"
"I've been thinking about it," he tried to elaborate. "You and me…"
Frank broke their embrace and recoiled slightly with a disapproving click of the tongue. "Quite the vague statement, sweetface. Surely you have specific things in mind. Otherwise you wouldn't be this hard." Saying so, he slid his hand into Brad's trousers and grabbed his throbbing boner full on.
A fervent gasp escaped his lips, Frank's bold touch sending jolts of pleasure through his entire body. "I've imagined you teasing me," Brad confessed, his voice trembling with desire. "Seducing me, making me yours in every sense of the word."
"Back to full sentences, are we?" A devious grin blossomed on his face as he continued to stroke Brad's arousal, his thumb grazing the sensitive tip. "Is that your own way of begging me to fuck you till you're sore?"
"Yes," he said, his request turning into a desperate supplication.
"Funny, I've never seen anyone beg on their feet," Frank smirked before removing his hand, a most sadistic drawback that left Brad panting for air. "Kneel." He complied with the command without hesitation, his anticipation growing with every passing second. Frank's fingers danced on his lips, tempting and teasing, before he finally ordered, "Open up." With his mouth slightly agape, Brad eagerly awaited, his longing evident in his submissive posture. "Attaboy… I reckon you've also fantasised about gagging on my cock."
"I have," he replied, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
"And have you touched yourself doing so?" Brad acknowledged in silence a second time as he began to untie the belt of Frank's robe with unhampered appetite, but he was quickly stopped by a gentle slap on the back of his hand. "Words, doll," Frank then teased.
"Multiple times, yes."
"That's what I like to hear." As he spoke, he casually strolled to his bed and sat on its edge, still facing him. "Now do it again."
Brad, who remained on his knees, tilted his head on the side, dazed and confused. "What?"
"You heard me," Frank said, his eyes lit with sheer delight. "I want you to touch yourself. Make yourself come, like the greedy slut you are, and perhaps I'll consider giving you what you crave for."
Once again, he eagerly obeyed and started to slide his clenched fist along his length, capturing his reflection in the headboard. With each stroke more electrifying than the last, it didn't take long until he succumbed to the waves of ecstasy under Frank's unwavering gaze, setting the stage for a night of unrestrained passion and intimate exploration.
He lay in bed, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his steady breaths. Resting on it was Frank's head, the gentle rise and fall beneath serving as a comforting swaying. Fearing that his lover might have fallen asleep after their moment of bliss, Brad couldn't help but venture a question.
"Did you mean what you said?"
"I've said a lot of things during the past couple of hours," Frank replied with a wink, tracing idle patterns on Brad's abdomen. "Horrifying ones, might I add. That's a lot to keep track of in the long run."
"About you not leaving. Did you mean it?"
Frank raised his head slightly. His fingers stilled on Brad's skin as he considered the question, and then a soft, genuine smile spread across his face. "My mother the queen is already well-decrepit, but you can trust her to cling onto the throne until she dies. That should buy me some time."
"You're staying, then?"
Frank chuckled softly at the hopeful question. "Not exactly," he began, and for a moment, Brad's blood froze in his veins. "You see, this isn't a castle. Not strictly speaking. It's a ship, quite a rusty one at that. It would do it good to travel around a bit."
Brad's brows furrowed in confusion, and he asked, "So, you're leaving again? Where?
Frank's sly smile remained, but his eyes sparkled. "Europe, for a start," he replied. "Trouble is, it takes at least two people to operate that kind of vessel. Not to mention my personal safety: the old continent probably has its share of ugly butlers and murderous maids! Ah, if only I had someone to keep me company…"
Brad's heart soared as he realised the true significance behind those words. He propped himself up on his elbow and mumbled, "You mean—"
"Yes Brad," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you, at least." He felt a smile break irresistibly across his face, and he pulled Frank closer in a tender kiss. "Is that a yes?" he asked against his lips.
"Of course I'll go with you!"
Frank raised his chin with a smirk and proposed, "Shall we celebrate, then?"
He gracefully donned his robe, opened a pretty cabinet, and retrieved a bottle along with two champagne glasses.
"Moët & Chandon," Brad read, impressed. "What are we drinking to?"
"Any ideas?" Frank inquired as he handed him a glass.
Glimpses of their first encounter during a November night flashed before his eyes. "You tell me," Brad responded, his joy bubbling, akin to the golden liquid. "You're the toast specialist after all."
Frank cocked an eyebrow, taking a moment to contemplate. Then, a content grin crossed his face, signalling that he had come to a decision. "To chance meetings!"
They raised their glasses, and the crystal clinked, the pure sound echoing through time and space.