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theodosia.livejournal.com posting in

I think this one manages to combine big doses of #2 combined with elements of #5, #8, and #12. Plus, I managed to get in 'kissing up against a brick wall' which should please

helvirago no end....

Weighing in at 1819 words (but it was significantly longer in first draft, so I still get a virtue point or two, right?):

Amnesia
“Ray, Ray, Ray!” – the voice sounded familiar. I groaned and opened my eyes, feeling hard surface beneath me – not a bed then. There was an ugly chick – no, wait, that was a guy’s voice – make that, there was a transvestite hanging over me. He looked like he might actually be handsome under the pancake – and he looked awful worried.

I lifted my head – big mistake! – moving made it hurt like a bitch cookie. I realized I already had a headache, the kind you don’t notice because it hurts to think.

“Who the hell are you?” I said. I lowered my head slowly so that I didn’t bump it, which would have damn near killed me.

“Oh dear,” the TV said. “I’m Benton Fraser – your partner.” I peeled my eyelids back. He looked worried, strangely familiar, and yet I couldn’t place him.

I closed my eyes again, but the drag queen said, “Ray, you’ve got to stay awake – you may have a head injury.”

“May?” I said. I didn’t have the energy to glare. He was right though, falling asleep after a major slam was a bad thing … I didn’t know how I knew that.

“You seem to have a degree of amnesia.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said. I got my elbows onto the ground – a sidewalk, alley pavement, whatever, and hauled myself into a sitting position. “Give me a second, here,” I mumbled. My head felt like spinning, and I almost lost my lunch. Just like being punched out in the ring, only there you had a nice guy with a sponge to slap you in the face and tell you to suck it up.

“We’ve got to get moving,” Benton was saying. He sounded like a regular guy, but then some transvestites are. “The police are surely on the way, and the Leftenant doesn’t want us involved.”

“’Left-what?’” I said.

“Er… never mind, Ray,” Benton said. “Right now we need to vacate the premises, and then get you to an emergency room.”

I slipped trying to stand, but the guy caught and helped me up, and I’m no lightweight – he was strong. I looked down and realized that ‘Benton’ wasn’t the only transvestite around – I was wearing a dress, too, red with sparkles. Could this get any weirder?

I could hear sirens, so I sucked up my complaints about dizziness. The way I was hanging onto Benton probably let him know how well I wasn’t doing. He led me out of the alley, across the street and down more alleys, keeping us out of sight.

“How are you doing Ray?” he said. “Here’s a crate, sit for a moment.”

“Not too bad, Benton,” I said, but the way I slumped my butt onto the seat said otherwise. “Benton, Benton – do you mind if I call you ‘Ben?’”

“Of course not, Ray,” he said warmly. He produced a small flashlight from somewhere – maybe his cleavage – and shone it in my eyes.

“Hey!” I said, and he managed to fend off my hand weakly batting at the light.

“I’m checking your pupils, Ray,” he said. “You’ve had a bad hit on the noggin, and may well be concussed, given your amnesia and continued confusion. Happily, your pupillary reaction seems in order.”

“I can take a hit, I do it all the time in boxing,” I said. There was something not right about that statement, but damned if I knew what. “Ben, is this a frat prank?”

“No, Ray, this is not a prank, though it is somewhat unorth—” Ben broke off, listening to something that I sure couldn’t hear. “Oh dear. Follow my lead.”

“Huh?” I said, as Ben pulled me to my feet, pushed me up against the wall, put his arms around me and touched his lips to my face, peck-peck-peck. I was kinda too stunned to do much about it but feel the hard bricks against my back and his hot mouth all over my face.

“Just play along, the officer will be here any second now—” he whispered in my ear, and went back to kissing my mouth, no tongue, but soft lips, I could feel just a light prickle of incipient beard. And he smelled great, a little guy-sweat, but clean and masculine.

Oh, I thought – brilliant as ever. The headache made it hard to think, but the kissing helped me forget it. I might have misplaced my memory, but my body was more than eager to make up for it. I brought my tongue into play, remembering how nice it was to kiss a guy, and feel his hard muscular body rub up against mine. One of my hands was clamped around the back of Ben’s head, the other found its way down to his firm, truly outstanding ass, and I forgot about any stupid cops until there was a spotlight being shone in our eyes.

“What’s up, girls?” Against the glare I could barely make out the outline of a cop.

I would have sworn that Ben had been as into the kiss as I was, but he swung around meekly. “Officer!” he said, squinting. “Is something wrong?”

“We had a report about fighting in a warehouse,” the cop said. “You seen anything?”

“Sorry, sir. We’ve been… busy.” I didn’t trust myself to speak, I settled for looking embarrassed. It wasn’t exactly an acting stretch.

“Uh-huh,” the cop sounded amused. “Move it indoors, or the next guy isn’t going to be so forgiving, okay?”

“No problem, sir,” Ben said contritely. “We got a bit… carried away.”

“Just move it along then,” said the officer. Ben put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me away. It was only then that I realized I was staggering because I wore high heels. Bad enough that I was disoriented, but I had to do it on stilts.

We continued in silence for about a block, long enough for me to drag a few facts from my sponge of a brain. “I’m not in college any more, am I?” I said.

“No, Ray,” Ben said. “The hospital will be only another three blocks now, if we keep going.”

“I don’t care about the hospital.” I stopped, my head was pounding again. “I’m married, I think. To a girl.” I could see her face, but I couldn’t remember her name, and it was killing me.

“Ray… it is imperative that you be seen by a medical professional,” said Ben. “And no, you’re not married.”

“But I am,” I said. “She’s beautiful… and she’s my best friend… we met when we were thirteen.”

“Ray – you’re divorced.” Ben kept talking but I wasn’t listening, just seeing her face, hearing her laugh.

“I can’t be divorced,” I said when he paused. “She’s my whole life.” But I had a feeling Ben wasn’t lying. It had been a while ago, maybe, but the pain was right this minute. I slid down to a sitting position against a handy wall, wrapped my arms around my knees. My head still hurt and I felt like crying.

Ben sighed and got down next to me. He plainly didn’t care that we were right on the sidewalk, with people going past pretending not to stare. “It was very long ago,” he said. “I know you cared very much.”

“I don’t even know her name,” I said.

“It’s Stella,” he said.

“Stella…” It sounded familiar. “That should mean more… but it’s not connecting.”

“Your memory will come back,” Ben said. “You’ll – have to trust me, I suppose.”

“I was just making out with you,” I said. “How well do I know you, anyway?”

“I’m your partner.”

That earned him a double take, despite the pounding headache. I couldn’t imagine being in love with a transvestite, or being one myself. Dry-mouthed, I said, “How long have we been involved?”

That set Ben back on his pins. “Not in the romantic sense, if that’s what you mean.”

“You think that’s funny?” I said. Damn, but that sounded cold. “It’s not that you’re a bad guy….”

“Quite okay, Ray,” he said. “I take your meaning, I believe.” He paused. “It was a surprise when you kissed me back. I hoped for some role-playing on your part….”

“Oh Christ,” I said. “I wasn’t out to you, was I?”

“Not explicitly,” Ben said. “From a few things you’ve let drop, I seem to have inferred correctly.”

I unpacked that through my headache, it was like playing Solitaire in molasses, prying up the cards, slowly and messily, but I could get them all in place. “Were you even out to me?” I said.

Ben sighed again. “Not in so many words,” he said. “I suppose we are now.”

I rubbed my temples. “That was stupid, wasn’t it? I mean… who better to trust than your partner—” I stopped as another association hit me. “We’re cops?”

“It’s complicated,” Ben said “but essentially correct; we were investigating the shakedown of transvestites that may be conducted by crooked cops – hence our outfits.”

“We’re undercover drag queens? That’s a big relief,” I said. “Amnesia is no picnic, but in a dress, too?”

“Quite so,” said Ben. He put his hand on my shoulder. “We should get you to the Emergency Room – I can fill you in once we’re there. You could have a serious concussion—”

“Yeah, yeah, bleeding in the brain, yada yada.” At a noise from him I looked up. “I didn’t lose my marbles. They’re just a little mixed up.”

Ben’s eyes crinkled just slightly, and I had a big flash like a giant light bulb turning on: He loves me.

It was lightning-bolt amazing, but I knew it was true… and more, I thought I loved him back. Didn’t know what to do about that – I’d been an emotional ping-pong ball tonight, trying to put together a crazy picture of my life. I knew I’d make sense of it eventually.

“Ray?” Ben was still not-quite-smiling. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve got a headache, but I’m going to be okay,” I said. “Help me up?”

He stood, and pulled me to my feet. I steadied myself on his firm shoulder. “I didn’t use to call you ‘Ben,’ right?” I said.

“You called me ‘Fraser,’” Ben said.

Why would I – wait, that was his last name. “Do you mind if I go on calling you Ben?” I said. “I like Ben better.” I didn’t really need to lean on him, but it felt so good.

Ben looked at me – yes, I’ll say it – fondly. “Of course,” he said. “And now, the hospital?”

“Promise you’ll stay?” I’d have gone anyway, but if I could keep my guy with me, so much the better. “And tell me all about our cop jobs, and how we met, and what’s my favorite color, and stuff like that.”

“As you wish, Ray,” Ben said, and even through the headache, my heart beat just a little bit faster.

Small Authorial Postscript
Incidentally, the Ray-inna-dress thing? This was first drafted well before the last two stories were posted. Maybe it's that Great Minds Think Alike, or else the Moon is in the constellation Transvestia. It's what all the cool kids are doing these days....

Current Mood: creative

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From:

lovessong.livejournal.com

So, the great thing about this community is all the wonderful little stories. The less-great thing about it is that they're all *little*! I want more of everything, and lots more of this story.

. . . Seeing the results of this challenge, I've come to two conclusions. First, often cliches become cliches because they're lovely and hot and people like them. Second, good writers can make cliches new and interesting even when they've been done a thousand times already.

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Cliches Dead Ahead!

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