We had so much fun with the Absolute Write fundraising anthology last year, we’ve decided to do four of them this year. They’re themed around colours: Red, Blue, Green, and Black. If you’re a member of AW and would like to submit a story for one of the anthologies, please check out the thread in the Erotica forum for more information.

I’m probably setting myself up for a lot of stress, but this year I decided to do a set of linked stories and pray they all get in. So, tonight’s Tickle is from my story for the first colour, Red. And it’s called, appropriately enough, Garnet.

Note: The song they’re discussing is Mack the Knife, which comes from early in the 20th century. And Garnet is, indeed, a female impersonator. Oh, and this is so first draft it’s a wonder you can’t smell the pixels, so there will be changes. Once I figure out what they have to be.

She was beautiful. He knew it was a guy dressed up like a girl, but aesthetically, she was lovely. The amount of time it must have taken to put that whole look together boggled his mind. As he got closer, his eyes stuck on the flex of muscle in her calf as she played with her shoe, slipping it on and off her heel with nothing more than a curl of her toes. He felt his mouth go dry and his hand twitched with a surprising urge to run his hand up that leg and under the long skirt.

He stopped beside her, but wasn’t daring enough to climb up onto the barstool in front of him.

“Hello,” she said with a friendly smile. “I wanted to thank you for the standing O.”

“You deserved it. That was a great rendition. What made you include the last verse?”

She laughed and turned back to her drink, swirling the blue liquid gently with her straw. “Doesn’t it describe our lives perfectly?” She took a dainty sip through the straw. “I mean, the people who get attention, the ones who get help, aren’t they the ones that are already in the limelight?” She smiled at him again and patted the seat beside her. “Rest yourself, sweetie. Do you like the drink?”

“Yes.” He hitched his hip up onto the stool and wiggled himself into place. “I was surprised by the no alcohol, but it doesn’t need it.”

She pointed her straw at his glass. “I don’t drink. That’s one of my creations.”

“Oh.” He took another sip. It really was quite good. “Does it have a name?”

Her eyes narrowed in amusement, then, with the most innocent of smiles, she said, “Garnet’s Cherry.”