Mouse Montgomery was sitting at the bar at Triangles, engaging in one of her favorite pastimes, chatting and ogling barmaid Sharon Patterson. Mouse was a petite girl, three years out of drama school, with a slim body, and short, heavily curled brown hair parted on the left. Her real name was Mallory, but people called her Mouse because she was shy, with mousey brown hair and very small, less than five feet and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. She was cute in her way, but besides her stature what most people noticed most about her were the thick, coke-bottle lensed glasses that rested on her nose.

Mouse favored loose sweaters, jeans, or corduroys that were sized for comfort. She was a drama major who had found work off-Broadway as a costumer and set designer and had gotten some nibbles on Broadway, but so far she made her living as a temp. She dreamed of working on Broadway, and especially of becoming a playwright herself. But it's hard to write a play at a bar, which Triangles very much was. More importantly, Triangles employed Sharon, a shapely butch with beautiful tattoos, a taste for leather and low-cut tops, short dark hair, plenty of piercings, and dark, beautiful eyes, and whom Mouse swooned over whenever Sharon came anywhere nearby.

Sharon was friendly to Mouse in a seemingly professional way. Sometimes they exchanged a few sentences as drinks and sandwiches were provided, in between the washing of glasses and the other tasks that a good bartender sees to every instant when which they are not dealing with actual customers, serving or making drinks. Once in a while, Sharon even smiled at Mouse, which sent tingles through the smaller woman's body.

Mouse liked to sit next to Charlie, an old regular whom some said had occupied the same bar stool since Triangles had opened way-back-when. Charlie was full of stories from decades of work as a foreign photojournalist. By sitting next to Charlie, Mouse killed two birds with one stone. She could catch frequent glances at Sharon, and attempt to catch the eye of their enticing bartender.

In between Mouse's attempted flirtations, Charlie would regale her with a lifetime of stories of war, peace, and the many men he had bedded. Tonight, Charlie was waxing over his conquests, sipping malt whiskey and telling her of the Bedouin he had an affair with sometime around 1970. “I tell you, he had a bent cock and I fell in love with him the moment he rammed me in the prostate!” He grinned and tapped his glass to her margarita, and they laughed and sipped together.

“You know, Mouse, I can't understand why a pretty young girl like you spends so much time with a dying old faggot like me, when the room has so many beautiful women for you to seduce. Like Sharon here,” he said, in his lovely English accent, pushing his now-empty tumbler the barmaid's way.

“You want another, Charlie,” Sharon said, with a smile, before turning Mouse's way. “Want anything, Mouse?”

Mouse inspected her margarita, still half full. Her purse wasn't very heavy at the moment. Her next show wouldn't start until after the New Year, and while temping paid the bills, it did not overpay them. But she couldn't help but turn a delighted smile and a tilt of her head Sharon's way. “Not quite yet,” she said, with a grin, as the barmaid's eyes flashed in the passing car lights. Sharon was an actress, who sometimes worked off-Broadway, though Mouse hadn't worked with her yet. She was praying for the day she got to do a fitting.

“Oh, bring our lovely Mouse another,” said Charlie with a pat on Mouse's shoulder. “I can afford it, and after all, I can't take it with me. And I can afford to be generous as my last Christmas approaches.” One of the reasons not so many people sat with Charlie these days was because it was clear that this year's Holiday would be Charlie's last. He'd once sported a full beard, but the hair that had once covered his head, face, eyebrows, ears, and presumably places lower was all gone. His skin was thin and he'd shrunk to a near skeleton.

Mouse knew Charlie couldn't stay late anymore. Soon his partner Dale would come for him, if for no other reason than the small oxygen bottle at his side wouldn't last forever. Mouse had a hard time accepting the inevitable, but Charlie did not. Once he'd said, “I survived five wars, HIV and one crazy ex-boyfriend only to fall victim to Marlboro's.” Charlie didn't smoke anymore, but he'd smoked plenty in the past and made no excuses.

“Thank you, Charlie,” she said, turning to watch Sharon walk toward the liquor, admiring her backside with great pleasure.

“Oh, watching that look on your eye makes it worth it. Reminds me of May back in the Stonewall Days when I caught sight of a strapping young lad. I was quite the charmer in my day.”

She smiled. “You still are, and were I straight, I'd give you a tumble.”

He laughed. “And were I still young and fit I'd grant you my first heterosexual salvo in many a decade. You're a prize in your own way, Mouse, you just can't see it through those thick lenses.”

“So keep up the flattery, particularly when Sharon comes back.”

“Is she who you want for Christmas?” he said.

Mouse sighed. And watched Sharon's lovely back arch as she scrubbed out glasses. “No elf could make Sharon.”

“Say no more,” he said. “I can admit when my competition has won.”

Mouse shrugged. “There's no competition,” she said. “Tell me, Charlie, what's the best part of the Holidays for you?”

He shrugged and smiled when Sharon returned with their drinks. “You'd just think me an old fool.”

“No, I wouldn't!” Mouse seemed a bit hurt at the suggestion.

“Well, I'll tell you," he said. “What I miss the most about this time of year is the Mummers.”

“Mummers?” she asked. “This bar is full of people on and off-Broadway. Including me.”

“Including the lovely Sharon,” he noted. “But you see that's not what I mean. Back when I was a wee lad in Cardiff, for the holidays we had troupes of Mummers come around and perform small plays. They were amateurs, not like this lot. Ordinary folk dressed up and put on little plays in the streets or in the pubs. Silly things with amateur costumes. Sometimes you'd get St. George versus the Dragon, with a doctor to resurrect the slain.”

“You resurrect the dragon?” Mouse asked, with a grin, her eyes for the moment not on Sharon.

Charlie feigned shock. “You can't have killing at Christmas! We're not barbarians after all.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, noting Charlie's husband Dale coming through the door with Charlie's wheelchair in front.

“Time to go, old man,” said Dale with a grin. He was a bit younger than Charlie but hardly young with a balding head and skin the color of a Mound's bar.

“Oh, you barbarian,” Charlie said. “Dale, sit down and have a drink. I was just explaining to Mouse here what Mummers were.”

“Still are,” said Dale, a high-school English teacher. “Alright, I'll have one with you and Mouse. Just one. You need your rest!”

“I'll tell you what I need,” said Charlie, reaching around to squeeze his man's bottom.

“When we're home,” said Dale, with a twinkle. Everyone knew nothing would happen. Charlie's spirit made promises his cancerous flesh could no longer fill. Soon Dale helped Charlie into his chair, and he left with his oxygen and cane on his lap.

Mouse watched him go and then motioned Sharon over.

“What'cha need,” she said, with her typical lovely smile.

“If I wrote a short holiday play for Charlie to put on here, would you be in it?”

Sharon bent her head, with a quizzical look on her face. “Sure. What kind of a role would you have me play?”

“I was thinking St. George.”

“Like with the dragon?”

“Yep. With a twist.”

“Sure. Are you thinking of putting it on for the Christmas Party?”

“I am.”

“Well, so long as I get top billing,” she said, winked at Mouse, and headed off for her next paying customer.

Mouse looked around the room. A lot of theater people drank at Triangles, not all of whom were gay. Robbie did makeup on Broadway. Betty and Jan had worked as Rockettes. John had just finished a run of “Vampire Lesbians of Sodom”. Peter did costumes, like her. She realized she could put on a small play just using regulars. She got up and started making inquiries of people she knew liked Charlie. No one said no. Not if it was for Charlie. Plus, she'd get to do something with Sharon. Mouse settled up her bill and headed out the door. She had a play to write.

The next few weeks, Mouse didn't spend a lot of time at Triangles. Shew was too busy writing and polishing her script, handing it out scripts to her cast members, letting them know the costumes she had in mind, and began sewing a cape for Sharon. What worried her was Charlie had been scarce too. She'd known this was coming, but still dreaded his decline and hoped he would make the party. So she focused on her cast and crew. She told them not to take the play too seriously, that this was just for fun. And she had fun writing it. Sharon's eyes got big and she shook her head when she finally read the script. “Finally, I get to play the hero.”

“Think Charlie will like it?”

“Like it? That dirty old man will love it! I just wonder how many of the cast will be able to keep a straight face until the end...”

“I'm counting on you Sharon,” said Mouse, hopeful, afraid she'd gone too far.

Sharon laughed. “You only live once, and I've always wanted to play a knight. About time King Arthur integrated.”

John laughed his head off and agreed the moment he saw his part. Robbie was a thin man of thirty, who did a lot of makeup. His jaw dropped when he told him what she had in mind.

“You're kidding me.”

“Robbie, I'm serious.”

“Like living dangerously, don't you?” He kind of rolled his eyes.

“I never live dangerously. That's the point.”

Robbie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I'll do it. The makeup will take a couple of hours to do. We can do it in the storeroom downstairs at Triangles. It used to be a speakeasy. I'll bring the makeup and whatever else we need.”

“I know about the place and hatches in the main floor. I'm using them in the play.” Mouse leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Your part in this may be the most important.”

“Somehow, I don't think so,” he said. “But no one will forget it.”

Triangles closed on the 19th for its annual holiday party. Staff only, and a small, select group of patrons, including Charlie and Dale, to whom Mouse had delivered an engraved invitation. The owner Zizi arrived early to let them in, so Robbie could go to work on Mouse's makeup. Mouse arrived carrying a bag with her bathrobe and began to undress. John set up his lights and got to work. “Glasses on or off?”

“I need to see.” Mouse replied. “Besides we're in Brooklyn, not Broadway.”

“Okay, he said. “Honestly, I think you'll look better that way, at least for this play.

By six, Robbie was just polishing up and Mouse wore her bathrobe as the cast started showing up. John started donning his costume, laughing the entire time. Mouse grinned at him in her long flannel bathrobe.

“Wow, you really went all out,” he said.

“It's for Charlie,” Mouse replied. “And so did you,” she added when she saw the costume he'd brought.

“Who just got here with Dale,” said Zizi. Which was a good thing, because he hadn't been in for most of a week, a bad sign.

Zizi played emcee that night and had gotten into the spirit of it. She was a well-shaped middle-aged woman with short red hair and had chosen a tuxedo top with leather panties and lace stockings and heels as her bottom, topped by a Santa hat. She looked really good in it too. “I set up a webcam so those of you downstairs can watch the proceedings. Any last-minute instructions, Mouse?”

“Make sure that when the fight scene climaxes you're above the floor hatch, John. Knock three times when you're ready for me to open it from below. And Sharon, please make sure the blanket covers the whole opening.

“I can do that,” Sharon said with a giggle. She'd been surprised to see Mouse's makeup and was still looking.

“Okay, Zizi first, then the chorus. Mouse began to give everyone their last-minute instructions.

“Got it, Director Mouse,” said Sharon. She was in her costume holding the Crusader's cape Mouse had made for her, along with the harness Mouse provided. And Sharon had gone all out as well wearing pure white, as was appropriate for the heroine.

“Places people,” Mouse said. “It's showtime.”

The jukebox shut down and Zizi ascended the stairs. We all crowded around the monitor and the speaker so we could see and hear. She strode to the center of the room with the script Mouse had given her in her hand. “Hear ye, hear ye, all assembled, be thee ready now for the first play of the Triangle Bar Mummer's Society for our first annual presentation of Saint Dyke versus the Dragon!

They heard guffaws from above, clapping and best of all, Mouse heard Charlie laughing.

She pointed at the Chorus. They must have had some tap experience for the four of them marched up the stairs and out on the floor in perfect time. They stood by the bar, the two chorus girls showing a lot of leg and the two men faking showgirl moves poorly, which lead to more laughs.

Once in place the chorus began to sing:

"We're here to sing a terrible tale,

That will shock your heart and leave you pale.

A tale of a dragon with a big, big nail,

Who deflowers virgins from our wooded vale."

“Sounds like somebody rehearsed,” Mouse said, kind of in awe.

“We've done this before,” said John, with a grin as he closed up his dragon suit. It was a pro costume, even though she'd told everyone the play was for fun. She supposed that's what you got when you cast real theater people in important roles.

“Where'd you get that?” she asked.

“Borrowed it from a theatrical supply house. Nice makeup. Did you have Robbie do it?”

“I'm right here,” Robbie said. “I spent a couple of hours on Mouse.”

“It shows,” said John. “Can't wait to see the rest of you.” John was quite straight, and happily ogled every pretty woman in the bar. It was the first night Mouse had thought he might ogle her.

“Enter our virgin!” cried Zizi. Andi was their virgin, local drag queen and as drag queens do, had gone all out with a tight dress and enormous falsies, and she held a bouquet of daffodils in hur hand. Hur makeup was excessive, which was perfect, and she shook hur money-maker all the way across to sing.

"Oh, look at me,

Such a lovely virgin,

The boys send me bonbons,

But I treat them like they're sturgeon.

My boobs they are pokey

and my bottom is tight!

Boys don't get hasty,

because I'm being good tonight!"

The room laughed hard at that because Andi was not known for hur chastity. Robby started beating on a barrel, simulating heavy footsteps. People booed playfully as Bob stepped into the room, realizing a villain when they saw one. John had done as Mouse asked and installed an enormous inflatable phallus, which jutted from his waist. He held it up and thrust his hips as he circled.

"I'm the Dragon Patriarch!

I am your male Monarch

Even tougher than the Bismarck

I am your Patriarch!

I am the Top Quark,

I kneel for no woman,

Not even Emilia Clark!

My breath is all fire,

My farts much the same,

Give me that vir-gin!

Or all you'll know is pain!"

With this, the Chorus began to feign panic and ran in circles, hands around the mouths to feign panic.

"Oh, what an utter catastrophe?

An outright tragedy

As our virgin becomes a casualty

Of the dragon's evil majesty!"

Andi pretended to go faint and leaned against the wall, legs crossed in an over-acted swoon before singing,

"Oh, oh no, oh my aching heart,

To die for a dragon,

Because my legs never part!

But that leads to a question?

And the answer quite obscure

Why should the patriarchy,

Care if my pussy's pure?

Should I have raced

to hold my legs widespread?

Should I have invited,

The Boy Scouts to my bed?"

“You mean you haven't,” cried someone from the crowd, followed by laughter. Which made sense as Andi was playing a really slutty virgin.

The Chorus took over then,

"We need some crusading,

If we're to save our maiden,

We need a knight!

To keep her pussy tight!

But where, o where,

Would such a savior come?

One look at the dragon,

And I myself would run!"

The chorus began to repeat.

Zizi then skipped around the room in a circle banging coconuts together to simulate hooves Monty Python-style, which was Sharon's cue to take the room. Mouse had made her a pure white Crusader cape, complete with a big red female glyph. Sharon hadn't let it lie with just a cape. She wore an eye-catching white bustier and leather panties that made Mouse coo audibly when she saw her favorite bartender. Sharon had finished off her outfit with black wrestler's boots and an enormous red strap-on projecting from her harness.

"I am Saint Dyke!

It's girls that I like,

Slut or virgin, I don't care.

I defend all women fair!"

The Chorus broke in

"Saint Dyke, Saint Dyke!

She wears the Holy Spike

She fears not the dragon's strike

And does not yield to his psych"

"Patriarch is mighty tall," sang the chorus

"The bigger they come the harder they fall," responded Saint Sharon Dyke. Sharon stepped into the room to face the Dragon Patriarchy. Each held the phallus at their waists and pretended to sword fight with their strap-ons, which got them pretty darned close. People were giggling as the fake cocks thrust and parried, sliding off each other and blocking. And as they had practiced, she dodged Bob's hammy grand death lunge. He toppled forward on his belly. Sharon got behind him, straddled him, and started to thrust.

"Oooo! Ooooooo! My resistance has turned to goo!" Bob sang and pretended to fade, barely keeping his laughter in check. Sharon looked like she was biting her lip to keep it in.

"Oh my goodness, my cheeks are spread,

Thanks to you Saint Dyke

I'll soon be dead!"

And Bob the dragon pretended to die, Sharon got up and headed to Andi, where they exchanged a long snog with lots of tongue as Andi rubbed up against Sharon. The Chorus took over, covering Bob with the blanket.

“Quick, someone summon the doctor," called Zizi. "There's no dying in my bar!"

Barry took that as his cue. Barry was in his fifties with a long face and wavy hair. He wore a long woolen overcoat and a long wide scarf about his neck Tom Baker-style. “I am The Doctor,” he said. “What seems to be the problem?”

"Under the blanket,

The Dragon lays slain,

But at this happy time,

None should know such pain."

“I see,” said The Doctor, lifting up the blanket to peek. “What have we here?”

The chorus too up its part.

"That is the dragon Patriarchy, lying dead and cold,

it came to eat our virgin only to fall before Dyke the Bold."

“The patriarchy is dead,” pronounced The Doctor. “It cannot be renewed. If it rises again, it must take a new form. Perhaps with a small amputation of unneeded bits.”

The chorus chimed in,

"The Patriarchy is dead,

It cannot be renewed,

In order to live again,

It cannot remain a dude!"

“Let me fetch my Sonic Stethoscope,” said The Doctor, removing an egg beater from his coat and began to crank it, making the beaters rotate and making an odd sound. The Chorus hit one of the effects boxes with a space laser sound as The Doctor did his thing.

Bob knocked three times on the door, and that gave Mouse her cue. She peeled off her bathrobe and then went to unlock the hatch in the door. Bob wasn't in exactly the right spot and started to fall through but Mouse helped him descend. The hatch was tight around his costume but she got him through and on his feet. And then he turned to see her as she would be on stage. “Wow,” he said, eyes running up and down her body in full-on male ogle. “You really went all in.”

Mouse laughed. “Sure did.” She wore nothing but her glasses and head-to-toe body paint. Robbie had painted her up as a female dragon with green scales on her back, legs and arms, and yellow on her face, chest, belly, and mound, capped off by thick horn-rimmed glasses. Mouse knew she was nowhere nearly so shapely as Sharon or Bob's soap opera star girlfriend, but seeing his mouth fall open that way, she felt pretty. It gave her confidence. She prayed Sharon would feel the same.

“Need help?” Bob asked as she moved to climb up through the hatch.

“You just want to grope my ass,” she said with a wink.

“Of course I do,” he said. “But I am a gentleman with a jealous girlfriend! Up with you.” He offered a foothold and winked back.

Mouse climbed through the hatch then stretched out beneath the blanket while The Doctor spun his egg beater over the blanket. The hatch shut, and as planned she began a swimming motion under the blanket. Slowly, centered under the blanket, she stood to her full height, which was a lot less than Bob even without his dragon suit.

"The dragon he was very tall,

Now the dragon's very small,

Cut down to size,

By brave Saint Dyke

Does it realize

It had best not fight?"

Mouse pulled the blanket off of her head and tossed it aside. There were gasps all around Triangles, which had never (officially) had a naked person on its floor before, as Mouse wore nothing but her glasses, body paint and green jeweled butt plug. Charlie guffawed. There were wolf whistles aplenty and plenty of shocked expressions, but for once Mouse didn't care. She ran her fingertips between her breasts and slowly down her belly to her mound to ostentatiously feel around for junk. And she began to sing,

"Oh where, Oh where

Have my testes gone?

Oh where, Oh where, can they be?

Without a bulging cock

And a swinging sack of balls

I must forsake the Pa-tri-archy."

Mouse turned to face Sharon, whose eyes had flashed a moment of shock as her eyes swept across Mouse's green-and-yellow painted body

Mouse smiled at her, and took a step toward Sharon to chant:

"Patriarch was once my name,

But now please call me Pat

Once virgins were my treats,

Once I devoured their teats

Back when I had swinging meat,

And my arrogance complete.

Brave Saint Dyke knocked off my pole

And left me with this hungry hole

To me it comes as quite a shock

The dragon Pat now craves stiff cock."

The room was filled with shrieks. Mouse knelt before Sharon, who flashed a brief moment of shock before regaining her proud face with upturned jaw and haughty eyes. Mouse hesitated, for the moment, afraid to take the next step. She wanted Sharon to know how much she cared, but she realized this was going all in.

Mouse figured that if she didn't go all in, she would never get another chance. So she reached out with her left hand to take the enormous strap on in her hand. And she knelt down to take it into her mouth and swallow as much as she could, and when deep, gripped it to push it back into Sharon's mound, pulling and pushing so Sharon would feel the pressure on her clit.

All around her Mouse heard cries of shock, from gasps to laughter. People were talking, she heard Charlie cry out and Zizi calling out, “Oh my God.” She ignored them, kept her eyes focused on Sharon's, and did her best to show how to suck a she-cock. She was breathing hard at being so near and intimate with her crush but was also too terrified to stop.

Sharon, it seemed, knew how to improvise.

"The Patriarchy now is dead!

On its knees and giving head!

On hands and knees with upturned butt,

Dragon Pat's a total slut!"

Sharon put her hands on Mouse's head and pushed her off the enormous phallus, which shone with her spit. Sharon pointed away and at the ground. Mouse put her head on the ground and raised up her bottom. Sharon took Mouse's hips in her hands. The huge strap on slid across Mouse's pussy. Mouse could feel it and liked it, and rocked her hips back in time with Sharon in somewhat simulated sex. Sharon put her hand in the air and waved it cowgirl style to yell “Yeee-haw, ride 'em cowgirl!”

The chorus, who had been quite shocked by Mouse's appearance decided this was the perfect time to sing its closing

"That is all,

Our play's fini,

We not quite done,

But we really have to pee!"

“Mouse showed her all,” a male voice yelled. The chorus bowed as laughter and clapping filled the room. Sharon stepped back and tugged Mouse to her feet. Mouse still felt a bit groggy, but so happy that Sharon seemed to have enjoyed herself. In fact, she lifted Mouse's hand over her head for a round of cheers. One by one the cast took a bow as the chorus introduced them. Mouse suddenly felt how naked she was and held her right hand across her breasts and left on her sex.

“It's a little late for that,” Sharon said in her ear. “Once you've gone this far, you might as well own it.”

Mouse relaxed and let her fingers fall, as Sharon's hand slipped about her waist, fingertips resting on her hips.

“I'm just glad you aren't pissed at me,” Mouse said.

“For what, the dildo suck? I admit it surprised me a bit. You're wilder than I thought you were.”

“If I was going to do it, I wanted you to enjoy it.”

Sharon leaned close to whisper into Mouse's ear. “I did baby, I used to think Mouse was who you were, talking to Charlie every night and never asking anybody out. But you have a monster in you.” Sharon's long fingers softly slid into Mouse's crack to touch her, and then they were mobbed by people hugging them.

Zizi got in Mouse's face to glare at her before giving the smaller woman a smile. “If you want to do another Holiday play next year, I'm up for it provided there's a lot less fucking. I want to keep my liquor license. Bob came over to shake her hand, and even his soap opera star girlfriend told Mouse how much fun it was. They talked a bit, and then it was time to hug the rest of the cast. Finally, she turned away and saw Charlie sitting there in his wheelchair. He looked tired but was grinning so she hopped over to greet him.

“I realize that wasn't quite the Mummer's play you remember,” Mouse began.

Charlie laughed and Dale was grinning too. “You honored tradition and violated it like a virgin's bottom. I'm proud of you! That was amazing. Thank you so very much. I cannot think of a finer parting gift.”

“We're not parting.”

“Not yet,” Charlie said and took her hand. Dale poured them a couple of tumblers of whiskey and handed one to Mouse. She sipped it gratefully, and he poured another when Sharon came over to join them. “That's thirty-year-old scotch. It's probably older than you are, but a totally insufficient reward. That was so brave of you to bare yourself that way.”

Mouse grinned and felt a bit shy, rocked on her feet. “Thank you. It was my pleasure.”

Charlie leaned really close. “Not yet, but I can see the way Sharon is eyeing your bottom. I think, for you, the pleasure has just begun.”

Mouse giggled nervously. “I sure hope so.”

“Then go back to her and don't be afraid, Brave Dame Mouse, playwright of dragons.” Charlie took both her hands in his and kissed them one at a time. “No go forth and spread thy legs widely.”

Mouse chuckled and wandered back, slipping in right next to Sharon, whom she noted had not brought a date of her own. Their fingers laced, naturally and Sharon turned to her. “Did you bring any makeup wipes?”

“I've got about a quarter can of mehron. ” Mouse admitted.

“Not enough! We need to get that makeup off of you. You don't want to end up like that girl in Goldfinger.” Sharon tugged her fingers and Mouse followed, down the stairs to their impromptu staging area. There she stopped Mouse and took out her phone. “Somebody has to get a picture of you this way,” she said.

“I think a few people did,” Mouse said, suddenly realizing that some video of her might end up on the web. The guests at Triangles all knew how it felt to be shamed, so she felt pretty safe.

But if that happened, she'd deal with the exposure. She was with Sharon, who made Mouse stand still for a series of portraits including a few in full Godzilla pose. And one on all fours highlighting the jeweled plug, “Because I want to remember you that way."

Sharon opened a big package of wipes and pulled out some coconut oil. Mouse started on her face, while Sharon removed her own makeup. As she'd only done her face, she finished first and turned to Mouse, taking fresh wipes to slowly glide the soft fabric down Mouse's back while Mouse worked on her upper chest and breasts. Sharon ran out of wipes but went to get some rags and Nahron to slowly wipe down Mouse's body.

Sharon's touch was gentle and thorough, wiping down the small of Mouse's back, and then her bottom, gliding the rags in slow semi-circles and deep into her crack. Mouse cooed as Sharon pressed on her plug and began to rock her hips. At first it seemed Sharon was being totally professional about it though, to Mouse's immense disappointment. Mouse consoled herself that she'd gotten closer to Sharon, and this care meant she actually mattered to the beautiful waitress.

It took almost an hour to get the makeup off. Upstairs the sound of clinking glasses and happy laughter carried down into the basement. Sharon sat on the couch as she worked, cleaning off the last. “Now I need to oil you to keep your skin moist,” she said. “Lay down on the couch, face down.”

Mouse eagerly complied, eager for more of Sharon's touch, even if chaste. The scent of coconut oil filled the room. Her pussy was burning, slippery-wet, and hungry and she cooed as strong fingers began to oil her skin and massage her back. Sharon rubbed her in long strokes careful to touch everywhere but Mouse's “naughty bits”.

But even so, her fingers kept coming closer and closer. The mere proximity of Sharon's fingers concentrated Mouse's mind on her bottom, her pussy, and her tingling nipples. She happily turned over for Sharon and lay on the bed as her barmaid friend carefully oiled her face and neck, and rising and falling breasts, down across her belly, and onto Mouse's thighs.

“Someone is very wet,” breathed Sharon.

“I'm sorry,” Mouse breathed, suddenly ashamed.

“Never apologize for getting wet in my presence!”

Sharon's middle finger touched the center of Mouse's pussy. She took the tip and slid the oiled digit straight-up Mouse's slit, a slow touch that made Mouse moan. Mouse opened her eyes to see Sharon above her, naked now, her lovely body glowing in the room's pale golden light. Her full, soft lips pressed to Mouse's thin lips. Sharon's kiss was soft but grew more intense. Soon her tongue danced with Mouse's, accompanied by the finger gliding up and down Mouse's pussy, making her hips roll and undulate. Mouse reached up to wrap her arms around Sharon.

“I've wanted you for so long,” Mouse breathed as Sharon licked her jawline and her fingertip pushed inside Mouse's pussy.

“I know,” Sharon said. “I've always known. And now I know the real you," she said.

In and out, in and out her fingers plunged deep into Mouse's wet slit, twisting and thrusting, she fucked the smaller woman to the squishing sound and the rising moans leaving Mouse's lips. Sharon's teeth pinned Mouse's right nipple and softly bit, squeezing it, making Mouse cry out and whimper, her legs rising up, knees tight, as strong fingers continued to fuck her. The pace, steady relentless, and a single touch of Sharon's finger to Mouse's clit sent the small woman over the edge, sent her pussy quivering in ecstasy, made her cry out and fill the room, a cry she didn't care if anyone heard upstairs.

Sharon's fingers never stopped, but her head moved down, to kiss and blow cool air across Mouse's pearl, sweeping in time with plunging fingers. Mouse's body careened helplessly from peak to peak, her hands in Sharon's hair, holding her there, so tight where Mouse needed her wanted her craved her as her body bucked and bucked hard and over and over, lost in waves of pleasure.

It was quiet and her cunt empty when Mouse came to. She looked up to see Sharon squatting over her, pussy pressed down to her lips. Lost in delight, Mouse opened her mouth and began to taste the woman she had fantasized about for long months now. And her tongue swept up and down in utter delight as she tasted Sharon for the first time and oiled her face with sweet cunt juice.

Charlie wasn't at the bar on New Year's Eve. His wheelchair was, along with his jacket and cap, the cane he'd used in his last days, and a series of photo albums.

“Oh no,” Mouse said, tears rolling over her cheeks as she saw Dale seated at Charlie's old spot by the bar. She ran to him to hug him and hold him tight to her body to weep into his arms.

“When?” she asked.

“Yesterday morning,” Dale said, holding her tight. “He was fading fast, but I think held on for your little show. For those extra days, we both thank you. He wanted me to give you something.”

Mouse felt Sharon coming up behind her, her lover's head resting upon her shoulder, arms holding her tight. “I'm sorry, Baby,” she said and kissed Mouse's cheek. But the heat of her comforted Mouse and she reached back to touch the woman she adored.

Dale reached into his jacket to pull out a photograph. It was an old picture of a young boy, talking to a much older man in an amateurish knight's costume. Dale teared up a bit and choked out, “Charlie was twelve when this picture was taken. He wanted you to have it, in partial thanks for the gift you all gave him.

“I can't take it,” Mouse said. “It's not just for me, it's not like I did that alone.” and she turned to kiss Sharon with passion. “We should put it up at the bar, along with a recent picture so people can remember him and smile.”

“He's not that good,” said Dale. “I know my man. You can bet that wherever he is now, he's telling people about the young beauty who had her whole body painted as a dragon for him. And I know he's telling them how he fucked you and made you squeal like a pig.”

“I don't squeal like a pig.”

“That's not what I hear,” said Dale. “Sharon, Mouse's tab is on me tonight. In fact,” he said. he pulled out a five-hundred-dollar bill, this goes to Mouse's account. Charlie insisted we buy her drinks for a while.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You gave him joy at his end. And you may be assured that wherever he is Charlie's telling everyone in the next life what a magnificent shag you are.”

“I am?” said Mouse, shimmying a bit, and smiling for the first time since she'd walked in.

“Yes, Baby, you are,” said Sharon, and gave Mouse's bottom a good squeeze as they tapped their glasses together.