The Auction

By Gale Stanley

Lawrence, aka Lark, worked his way through college by dressing up like Madonna and voguing onstage. After graduation, Lawrence went looking for a real job, and met George. His new lover wanted a straight-acting partner, in business and in bed, so Lawrence gave up drag, and let George run the show.

The love relationship fizzles, but the event planning business thrives. HiJinks books a big job and both men hope it will rain referrals so they can part company. At the last minute, the entertainment bails, and Lark makes a comeback. The drag queen plays out a sexy scene on the dance floor with dinner guest, Oliver Ford. George is fuming, and willing to do anything to get rid of Lark—even if it means putting him up on the block at a slave auction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: May 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781772333428

Book preview

Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015 Gale Stanley

ISBN: 978-1-77233-342-8

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Katelyn Uplinger

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This one’s for George.

THE AUCTION

Scenes from the Underground, 2

Gale Stanley

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Lark stood on the second floor balcony and waited for her cue. Below, men in dinner jackets gathered in the marble foyer. A touch of performance anxiety set off butterflies in her chest. The Bishop mansion had rated a cover on Architectural Digest, and the host of this dinner party had a reputation for throwing wild soirees. Dr. Howard Bishop’s guests, power players in the New York GLBT community, expected something special to float down this sweeping staircase. Lark did not want to disappoint them.

Lark talked herself out of the jitters. She did feel special tonight. Sexy and very disco glam in her long-sleeved gown with its open back. Underneath, she wore black panties, a garter belt, and silk stockings. No bra. Four-inch heels increased her height to six feet. Bronze shadow and black mascara made her blue eyes pop. Peachy blush accentuated her high cheekbones, and a sultry red mouth spiced things up with a campy, vampy vibe. At the last minute, Lark decided on the long blonde wig. The bangs made her look barely legal, as if she’d raided her mother’s closet for a night on the town. It was a hot look, and Lark knew how to pull it off. Leave them lusting. That was her motto.

The host started his speech. Showtime. Lark took a deep breath. She felt much better. The power of positive thinking. It worked every time. Psyching herself for a fabulous entrance, she walked toward the top of the stairs, and waited.

Welcome to my home, Dr. Bishop said. Normally I’m begging for donations, but not tonight. Tonight is for kicking back and enjoying ourselves. A thank you for your tireless work, and generous donations. Without you, the Bishop Foundation for AIDS research would not exist. So, have a good time, but remember the fight goes on, so if you feel like sending me a check in the morning, it will be greatly appreciated. Polite laughter rippled through the group. And now I’m going to turn things over to our emcee. The doctor gestured toward the top of the stairs.

Everyone’s attention focused on her. Enthusiastic applause and a few wolf whistles. More than a few predatory looks. Even from old man Bishop. God, she’d missed this. The bombshell is back.

Lark lifted up the bottom of her dress, partly to show off the strappy stilettos, partly to prevent a tumble. Step down. And smile. Keep moving. And smile. Don’t rush. Don’t dawdle. Don’t look at your feet. Work it, girl! Make eye contact—

George’s glare pinned her. His eyes, steely as ball bearings, threatened to pop right out of their sockets. For a few seconds, Lark couldn’t breathe. Damn him, and just when she was getting her old self back.

Stop letting him get to you. Stop being a doormat. Stop saying yes when you mean no. It never worked before. You let him run your life, and he dumped you anyway. Well, fuck him. Lark is back, and better than ever. Own it, you crazy bitch!

Lark threw her hair back with a saucy toss of her head. She widened her smile, kept her eyes on the crown molding, and continued down the stairs. Almost there—

And then the earth dropped away. Lark grabbed for the rail. She missed it, and pitched forward.

Miraculously someone caught her just before she did a face plant. Strong arms scooped her up, and Lark caught a last glimpse