Dirty Drag 2: The Night Drags On

it hadn’t been smothered under a wig for hours. Ashley didn’t even want to imagine how many sweat clumps his hair had formed or how raggedy he must look.
    Ashley refused to appear self-conscious, so he wore an expression that he hoped looked smugly confident when Rick finally met his gaze. “I think you’ll have to prove that before I can believe you.” Rick said casually. Oddly, he seemed unaffected by Ashley only having one boob, as he turned back to the stove. Ashley noticed the playful challenge in Rick’s words though. Ashley liked challenges, and he had a compulsive need to beat them. Even more than a challenge, he liked how Rick seemed to be at complete ease with him. In drag, in half-drag, it never felt like Rick judged him.
    Ashley didn’t want to analyze how he felt about Rick’s acceptance though. If this were just a one-night stand for Rick, Ashley would rather not build expectations if that were the case. He decided to focus more on proving his sexual proficiencies. That would be easier if he didn’t look like the bride of Frankenstein’s even uglier stepsister. Ashley politely excused himself before heading to the bathroom Rick had shown him during the tour Rick gave him when they’d first arrived. He quickly started looking for something to remove his makeup and made a mental note to start carrying his facial cleanser and makeup remover pads with him.
    The best thing Ashley could find were some moist towelettes sitting on the counter. He thought Rick must take his personal hygiene seriously, a habit they had in common. Ashley grabbed a couple wipes and started rubbing the makeup off his chest and then his face, hoping they wouldn’t be too harsh for his sensitive skin. Next, he washed his hair in the sink with warm water and towel dried it. Ashley studied himself in the mirror His skin was a little flushed from the wipes, but it wouldn’t last. His hair was artfully messy, just the way he liked it.
    Without the wig, makeup and missing boob, he looked ridiculous in his low cut top. That was a simply fixed problem. He took his top and bra off. Oh yeah, that was way less ridiculous, wearing just his miniskirt and stilettos. The perfect attire for breakfast at Tiffany’s Whore House. Hopefully, being nearly naked would probably get things to quickly transition into activities of a more adult nature. Ashley licked his lips and smiled at all the possibilities the rest of the night held.
    With one last glance in the mirror, he strode back to the kitchen. Rick sat at the end of the table with two plates set and ready. Ashley took his seat beside Rick, keeping his back straight and his head held high. Ashley heard of some people not knowing what to say on dates and there being long pauses of awkward silence, but Ashley had never experienced that problem.
    “What the hell is this, I thought you said you were making French toast?” Ashley questioned, looking at the unidentifiable mound on his plate.
    “There’s French toast on there. I just made it dirty French toast by piling crushed Oreos on top and then adding a drizzle of maple syrup.” Rick said, nodding his head at Ashley’s plate. “Just try it.”
    “I um, have never had French toast this way before. It looks ... interesting” Ashley said He didn’t want to lie and say it looked delicious, but he also didn’t want to be rude and say it looked disgusting. Moreover, he didn’t want to seem boring and say he preferred old-fashioned French toast, but he wasn’t sure he was adventurous enough to try this diabetic’s nightmare on a breakfast-plate. “You must be a fancy gourmet chef or something.” Ashley tried to say flirtingly, as he picked up his fork and started pushing his lump of crushed Oreos around. What Rick referred to as a drizzle of syrup, Ashley called a flood. The Oreos had absorbed a lot of the syrup, making a soggy, unidentifiable looking mixture. The excess syrup was pooling around the edges of the plate.
    “Shut up and try it.” Rick said sharply, “And if you want more Oreos, they’re in there.” Rick nodded towards his Death Star cookie jar in the center of the table. It was probably the most awesome thing Ashley had ever seen, but he kept that to himself. He didn’t want to nerd-out when he was trying to be coolly confident.
    “I think I have plenty of Oreos for now. I always thought Oreos were the most superior cookie. I mean, you can do so much with them, like lick them, twist them apart, dunk them