| Another Skin
by C.L.Finn The thing is, sometimes Adam misses Adina. It isn't that he wants to be a woman or a transvestite or whatever other name might describe a guy who dresses in women's clothes. He isn't any of those things, he doesn't think. Most of the time he spent at DOG had been a complete hell, but there'd been a few bright moments that Adam never managed to forget. Adina was angry and awkward and unattractive, but Adam had also felt a weird sense of freedom walking around campus in her skin, being a different person entirely. There was a power inside of Adina that Adam didn't really understand, but wanted to explore. And so he is here, inside a packed dance club, dressed as Adina. Or not quite Adina, because he ditched the Goodwill/DOG-leftover clothes and picked out a new outfit very carefully. Black leather pants that fit his ass just right, even make it look a little smaller in the right light, dark pink high-necked sleeveless sweater, and black boots with just enough heel to tilt his hips but not make him stumble around. He also ditched the bad blond wig and put gel in his own dark curls, spiking them up artfully around his face. He thinks he looks pretty hot, even if he might not pass close inspection. But that's why he's chosen this particular club. It's officially a gay club, but because of the local-celeb DJ it is frequently also half-full of straight club-kids. He figures he's pretty safe here, both from running into any of his fraternity brothers and from getting the shit kicked out of him if someone happens to brush up against the wrong part of his anatomy. Adam flashes his ID, raising an eyebrow at the bouncer when he does a double take, shrugs and waves him through. He pays his cover charge and goes straight for the bar, starting the night off with a couple of shots of tequila, followed by a bottle of beer. The place is loud, bass pounding out of the speakers, making the floor vibrate under his feet. He circumnavigates the floor, sipping at his beer and letting the tequila settle in his belly, burn into his veins, and just watches the bodies move on the dance floor. It's been ages since he's been to this kind of club, since his high school fake ID days, actually. Being in a frat means never having to leave your own living room for a constant supply of booze and chicks. But he loved this shit once upon a time. When his beer is empty and the tequila has started to make him feel warm and loose, he ditches his bottle and wades out onto the dance floor, sliding between bodies, not looking for a dance partner per se, just a good place to lose himself. Or herself. Because this is Adina's night, not Adam's. She is the one who wades into the mass of bodies, closes her eyes, raises her arms high enough to pull her sweater up and show off her belly-button, and lose herself in the dark pulse of the music. She feels pretty. Sexy. Like she can pick out anyone in the club, cock a hip and have them any way she wants. Like Adam isn't just some shitty frat dude, getting ready to graduate with no fucking clue about how to grow up. A guy who'd gotten so much pussy in the past four years that he was just bored with it. Bored with sex, bored with drinking, bored and flat out sick of KOK bullshit. But Adina's not bored with any of it. Adina's just getting started. She can open her eyes and glance at the people dancing around her, find the baby dyke with the spiked pink hair who's been checking her out, raise an eyebrow and offer a little smile before sliding up against her. She can slide one leather-clad leg between the girl's legs and pull her close, wrap a hand around the back of her neck and synchronize the movement of their bodies. She can lean down and kiss the girl, wrap a hand in her pink spikes and tug on her lip ring. When the girl pulls back enough to catch her breath, Adina can grin at her and graze a hand down the side of her breast, grinning even wider when the girl shivers against her. Adam can't do those things. Well, he can, but he wouldn't get away with it like Adina does. He'd just be the same frat dude asshole he's always been, reaching second base and trying to round towards third. Somehow, Adina has a lot more style than that. "I'm getting a beer," his pink-haired girl says against his ear. "You want one?" "No, thanks." The girl pulls away and moves off, quickly swallowed up by the crowd around her. But that's okay, that's fine. Adam didn't come here to get laid, and it's not like the girl would have been happy with the equipment under the clothes if she'd gotten that far. It's for the best. The music changes to some weird Jay-Z/Justin Timberlake remix, but the beat is good, deep and heavy, traveling from the soles of Adam's boots, up through his legs, settling in his gut. It's not long before a hand wraps around Adam's shoulder, sliding down his arm, and a body moves up behind him. Adam keeps his eyes closed and lets himself be pulled back against another body, leans into it, moves with his new dance partner. His partner spreads a hand against his belly, under his sweater, and pulls him closer and, huh. That is definitely another dick pressed up against his ass. Adam's eyes fly open and he looks down at the obviously male hand on his stomach and has a quiet little freak out. But the freak out only lasts a few seconds, because he's Adina, right? And maybe Adina is not as averse to cock as Adam. Maybe she likes cock. She definitely has no problem whatsoever sliding her own hand over his and pushing back, fitting their hips together, leaning her head forward and letting the guy press his mouth against the back of her neck, lick up her jugular, take control of the dance. She's not even really phased when his hand slides lower, shaping itself over her dick and making her gasp. "I thought so," the guy rasps into her ear, but doesn't move away, doesn't take his hand or his hips away from her, just keeps moving. And holy shit, Adam thinks. Holy fucking shit. Adina is unfazed. She just laughs and reaches up and back to wrap a hand around the guy's neck, letting her head fall back to his shoulder, and kisses him. She lets him stick his tongue in her mouth and suck at her bottom lip. She lets him grind against her ass and rub his hand over her dick until she has sweat dripping down her spine and her legs are rubbery and it all gets to be a little too much. "I'm getting a drink," she says into the guy's ear and pulls away from him. "You want one?" But Adam doesn't stop to hear his answer, just pushes his way through the crowd, breathing deep and carefully until he can get to the bar and buy another cold beer. He drinks the beer quickly, letting the cold bitterness cool him down, letting his erection fade a little. He makes his way to the Ladies room and doesn't think twice about going inside, the symbols on the bathroom doors are more like suggestions here anyway. He takes a piss and washes his hands, looks at himself in the mirror over the sink. His face is flushed, a little damp with sweat, and his dark eyeliner is smudged a little, but he likes it. He thinks the dark liner makes his eyes stand out, makes Adina look a little fierce. A little slutty. Adina smiles back at Adam in the mirror, winks, and he laughs at himself. He pulls out the little tube of lipgloss that he'd stuffed in his pocket with his ID and cash and reapplies it, then heads back to the dance floor. He's pretty sure Adina has a few more surprises up her metaphorical sleeves before she's done with him tonight. December, 2007. Written for Eyebrow of Doom in the Yuletide Treasure exchange. |