I'd been looking forward to this night out for a long time. It had been ages since I'd been out to a show, and the live cabaret act that my best friend Hannah had invited me to promised to be a lot of fun. Starring female impersonators, there'd be plenty of singing, dancing, comedy, and campy good fun.
In the spirit of the theme for the night, Hannah and I had agreed to dress up in cross-gender outfits, and I was eager to see what she'd chosen to wear. I’d found an old padded-shoulder pantsuit in my closet and paired it with a see-through chiffon blouse, skinny red tie and matching high heels. Deciding at the last moment to go topless underneath, the lapels of my blazer and the narrow strip of silk down the front disguised just enough of my bosom to look half-convincingly like a man. To accentuate the appearance, I'd trimmed my hair and slicked it back over my head with some heavy gel. Of course, the six-inch-high Louboutin pumps and my curvy figure in the tight suit left little doubt as to my real identity. But something told me not many people would be looking at my shoes this evening.
When my doorbell rang, I finished applying mascara and blush then ran downstairs excitedly to greet Hannah. But as I swung open the door, I gasped and had to hold onto the handle to steady myself. She was wearing a Scottish kilt, replete with high white knee socks, leather sporran, and a glengarry hat. But instead of the usual argyle jacket or waistcoat up top, she wore a thin plaid sash running diagonally over the front of her bare chest. Covering only half of her torso, her right breast poked brazenly out next to the flimsy tartan strip.
"Holy fuck, Hannah!" I said. "I didn't know you were going to go full Mel Gibson on me tonight!"
"You told me to dress up like a man," she deadpanned.
"Um, well yeah–dressed up in a man's outfit, but not with your tits hanging out!"
"Well, technically I've only got one tit hanging out," she said, stretching the ribbon to pull it over her other breast. "But at least the sash is pleated, so I can look a little more demure if the mood pleases me.
"Besides," she said, glancing at my see-through blouse. "You're not exactly leaving much to the imagination with that outfit. If it weren't for that skinny tie barely covering your cleavage, you'd be putting most of it out there on display too."
"Not quite as blatantly as you," I huffed, pulling my lapels tighter over my shoulders.
"Come on," she winked. "Tonight's all about having fun, remember? What good is it going to a queer revue if we can't let our hair down?"
"Speaking of," I smiled, tracing her strawberry-colored ringlets down over her bare shoulders. "I like your hairstyle. It goes nicely with the tartan theme."
"Yours too," she said. "Kind of minimalist, but it matches the power suit, and it highlights your cheekbones."
"Thanks," I said, looking at my phone to check the time. "Are you ready to do this? We better leave soon if we're going to get there in time for the start of the show."
"I've been ready all day," she said. "Let's go get our Vogue on."
* * *
When we got to the theater, there was already a long line stretched along the side of the building, but we found a spot to park on the side of the street not far away. As we approached the venue, the crowd was pumped up, chatting and joking boisterously in flashy drag costumes. With their heavy makeup, colorful wigs and over-the-top costumes, it was hard to tell the men from the women. Everybody seemed to have gotten into character, mimicking the campy personas of the female impersonators inside.
"Looks like a raucous crowd," I said, pulling up at the end of the line.
"These shows typically involve a lot of audience participation," Hannah nodded. "Kind of like the Rocky Horror Picture Show. That's part of the fun."
I looked up at a neon sign flashing on the brick wall above us.
"'Lips?'" I said. "Isn't that a bit of a strange name for a cabaret show?"
"Not for a queer cabaret show," Hannah said, smiling at a pretty girl wearing a feather boa next to us in line. "If you think about it, it's actually the perfect name for a female impersonator act. It's mostly about the singing, but it's also a metaphor for a woman's anatomy. These girls take their act pretty seriously."
"Except they’re not really girls," I chuckled.
"You'll be amazed at how authentic these performers look and sound. You'd never know they were actually men under all their makeup and bodily enhancements."
"Enhancements?"
"Some of these performers take hours to get into drag. Between the makeup, wigs, and all the extra padding, it's quite a production. But the final results are quite astounding. Some of them are actually quite gorgeous."
"You make them sound almost fuckable."
"Well most of them are men, after all, under all their entrapments. It's kind of fun imagining taking a pretty girl to bed only to find she's equipped with a real functioning cock."
"Like in the song by Lou Reed, Take a Walk on the Wild Side?"
"Yeah, kind of like that."
"You said most of them are men. What about the others?"
"It's hard to say, because everybody's so well camouflaged. They're all gay of course, but I suspect there's a fair number of transgender girls who are transitioning one way or the other. That's just another aspect that makes it all the more interesting. You never really know what's going on behind their stage personas. But it's all very inclusive and accepting."
I glanced down the line, surveying the mix of primping and preening theatergoers. Everybody seemed to have taken the theme to heart, dressing in provocative outfits. Whether adorned as a man or a woman, they all looked sexy and hot. As I squinted my eyes trying to decipher each person's gender, my eyes stopped at a platinum blonde dressed in a tight corset with cone-shaped cups and black garter stockings. With her hair pulled back into a tall pony tail and pointy eyebrows, she looked like a dead-ringer for Madonna during her Blind Ambition days. She caught me staring at her and shook her chest from side to side, playfully twirling the tassels hanging from the tips of her bra as she smiled at me. I pulled my shoulders back, stretching my suit lapels to reveal the erect nipples showing under my sheer blouse.
"I see what you mean," I said. "I'm already getting excited about meeting some of these girls."
