Chapter One
“Alexandra Piotrowski, you are one sexy bitch!”
Pulling myself out of the confused stupor I had been ruminating in for the last two hours, I focused my attention on one of my two best friends.
Joshua Bryce - or JB as he was affectionately called – stood at an impressive six-two, with a slim physique, dewy dark skin, and sharp bone structure that made him an eye-catching figure in any crowd. With his shaved head, full lips, and straight nose, he could have easily graced any runway. More than once he had been offered modeling jobs, and always he waved them away in disdain.
His true passion was his alter ego, Firenze. Unabashedly loud, unapologetically opinionated, delightfully crass, and always fabulous, Firenze was a drag superstar, inspiring ardent followers and fervent haters, equally, in both sexes. She was stunning and the world loved her. JB, on the other hand, was at times insecure, often critical, occasionally shy, and a devout perfectionist. Today, the two personas were merging, and his look of pride at my appearance was infectious, if a little disconcerting.
Walking a slow circle around me, he took in every detail as I stood with my back towards the mirror, my opinion unnecessary to his perusal. Clearly satisfied with his handiwork, he finally clapped his hands together and turned to the bed where my other best friend, Sarah Morin, had been lounging for the last two hours, occasionally reading a magazine but mostly annoying JB into losing his temper.
Sarah, who I had met in my first semester at MIT when we bonded over our shared love for our birth city, Montréal, was the complete antithesis to JB in both looks and character. Barely an inch above five feet, she was bubbly, social, emotional, and often irreverent. She hardly took anything seriously and tried to suck as much life out of every moment as possible, whether it was new experiences, new hobbies, or quite frequently, new lovers. Her attention span was almost non-existent, but she was loyal and loving and so generous that her friendship was a gift I treasured greatly.
With green eyes, stunningly tattooed limbs, and her naturally blond hair often dyed in exciting colours - today a pale shade of lavender that I didn’t have the heart to tell her looked rather awful with her colouring – she somehow always managed to look effortlessly stylish in her never-ending collection of black clothes. A fact JB frequently commented on. She was also the seasoning that my bland existence desperately craved.
Prior to university, I had so focused on my schoolwork in order to progress in my checklist of life accomplishments that I had completely forgotten how to have fun. If it were not for Sarah dragging me out of my comfort zone – usually kicking and screaming – I would have spent the entirety of my university years stuck with my nose inside a book, never meeting anyone and never having any adventures.
Based on the excited way that she threw her magazine away and jumped off the bed, I knew that I was about to be thrown into another. She was glowing with excitement, her tiny body practically vibrating with glee. Inwardly groaning at the looks of pride on their faces, I was tempted to go lock myself in the bathroom rather than turn around and see my reflection.
Drawing closer, Sarah winked at JB as she said, “Damn but we do good work.”
JB was rightly upset at her presumption. “What do you mean ‘we’? You just lazed on the bed for the last two hours.”
Nonchalantly feigning ignorance, she winked in my direction as she said, “Yes, ‘we’. How else would you have accomplished this if not for my expert assistance?”
Throwing his hands up in frustration, JB stormed off towards his makeup case, starting to put away his supplies. “When is this thing supposed to start?”
“Cocktail hour starts in about five minutes, but I think it’ll be fine if I show up a little late considering I planned the damn thing.”
Sarah crossed her arms as she threw me a frustrated look. “Why did you let yourself get roped into that again? I still don’t understand it.”
“Well, we needed a holiday party, and no one wanted to plan it. So, what was I supposed to do?”
Rolling her eyes dramatically, she raised an eyebrow as she said, “I don’t know? Maybe not plan it? This isn’t your firm, and you are not responsible for the social events. You should have said no.”
“You know I can’t do that. I need to show initiative if I am going to make associate by the end of next year.”
“Look Alex, I get that. But you taking on mountains of work and then planning an entire party, in your spare time no less, is not how you get that promotion.”
“It wasn’t even that big of a deal. The hotel staff is excellent, this thing practically came together on its own.”
“Uh-huh. Do you forget what I do for a living?” While Sarah was not technically in event planning, her job as a marketing coordinator involved a lot of events, so I knew that she didn’t believe me one bit.
To be fair, when I had eagerly taken on the role of planning this year’s party, I had no idea that it would be so exhausting. It was the first year I had managed to convince our usually tight-fisted senior partner to throw a celebration, but his agreement was conditional on my planning the damn thing so I had spent weeks picking a location, haggling over cost, booking entertainment, and organizing décor, and had decided to stay at the hotel venue just so I could supervise all the last-minute details. Having Sarah and JB show up at my hotel door just minutes after I had finally left everything in the capable hands of the hotel staff, had been a complete surprise, but necessary since there was no way I was equipped to properly deck myself out for an occasion of this opulence.
Finished with his clean-up, JB came over and put his hand on Sarah’s shoulder, shaking his head. “Stop it. You know how Alex is. Don’t make her feel bad about doing something that’s no doubt going to be amazing because of the effort she put into it.”
“I’m not trying to make her feel bad, but you have to admit that the girl needs a bit more backbone.”
“I’m right here!” Pasting a chagrined expression on my face, I looked at both of them with disapproval. “Besides, I have plenty of backbone.”
“We’re not talking about the arguments you have with the guy at the fromagerie.”
“Look, if it says triple cream, it better be triple cream.”
“All right, feisty cheese connoisseur, settle down.” JB rolled his eyes dramatically. “No one is trying to sell you low-fat brie.”
Sarah piped in again, “All we are saying is that you need to say ‘no’ a bit more.”
As reluctant as I was to admit it, Sarah had a valid point. Even I was ashamed of the level of brown-nosing that had come out of me when the senior partner had agreed to my idea. Not even the free room upgrade was enough to make all the spent hours and anxiety-filled nights worth the aggravation. Although it was a pretty swanky room.
I had taken a standard room at the hotel, but they had upgraded my room to a suite, which was a pleasant surprise that I was planning on enjoying every moment of until checkout tomorrow. The spacious room was sumptuously decorated in shades of burgundy and walnut, interspersed with oil-rubbed bronze accents. The king-sized bed that Sarah had been lounging on was the stuff of dreams, with a ridiculously fluffy, linen-covered duvet and an overabundance of pillow choices. Combined with the comfortable seating area and the extravagant marble-clad bathroom that housed a giant soaking tub as well as a massive walk-in shower, the room was elegant and expensive in a way that I was not used to. I was hoping I would have time to soak in the tub and maybe jump on the bed but considering check-out was at noon, I doubted I would get the opportunity.
“Look, we can debate this all night, but cocktail hour starts right now, and her outfit turns into a pumpkin at midnight, so can we just stop chatting and let this princess go to the ball already?” JB was ever the pacifying presence. Except when he was aggravating the hell out of me.
“Let’s just hope it’s not like that club you took us to with the anatomically incorrect blow-up penis.”
“That was not my fault! Dom said it was the best. Who is a man to trust if not his boyfriend?”
Chuckling at the memory of that night, I braced myself for my outfit reveal. I had managed to distract them temporarily, but I knew I was going to have to turn around and look in the mirror eventually.
“Argh, you two are never going to let that one go, are you?” Grinning sheepishly at Sarah, we both said ‘nope’ at the same time. “Whatever, just turn around already. I know what you’re doing.”
After hours of being pulled, cinched, powdered and painted, the moment of truth was upon me. I had no idea what to expect, but judging by the look on Sarah’s face, I could tell I should brace myself.
While I fully admit that I can be a bit of the stereotypical ‘girly-girl’ at times, my natural inclination runs towards comfort over fashion, practicality over extravagance. The fact that I work in a predominantly male-orientated industry does not give me much opportunity to dress up. Most of the men I work with probably wouldn’t notice if I came to work with a shaved head. It also doesn’t help that at any time I could be called to go visit a construction site, necessitating the requisite hard hat, safety vest and steel-toed boots. Chic pencil skirts are not exactly conducive to climbing scaffolding.
This being a rare change for me, a part of me was excited to see myself made up to perfection, while the other part of me was terrified. Particularly of the attention it would invoke.
At almost five foot eleven, I have never been a stranger to people’s looks of curiosity, followed by the inevitable glance down to see if I was wearing heels. The bright red hair does not help, and I have lived my life inundated with all manner of banal questions ranging from the curious to the downright offensive. Since I pride myself on being a pretty good sport, I have tried to answer their inquiries politely, while at the same time striving to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I had spent the majority of the last twenty years of my life trying to diminish my height and the beacon of my fiery hair, even dying it brown at one point to blend in. (Not only did it not work but the colour did not suit me, and I looked downright ill for months.)
My height aside, the extra weight I have been carrying for most of my life further added to my discomfort. While I may not be completely comfortable in my skin, I had finally accepted the limitations of my height and appearance to a point where I felt sufficiently obscure. And now that relative comfort was about to be potentially shattered at the exceptionally talented and creative hands of a world-class drag queen.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I gradually turned towards the mirror and cautiously peeked through one eye. When no flamboyantly painted woman peered back at me, I opened the other and stared with open-mouthed awe.
“JB, this is… I can’t even… oh my gosh… how did you?” The woman staring back at me was me, but somehow more. The eyes were bigger, the cheekbones sharper, the rounded face somehow slimmer. At best, I can describe myself as pretty, but the woman staring back at me was gorgeous!
Josh had managed to tame my unruly curls into sleek and full waves spilling over one shoulder and the result was natural in a polished way. How he had managed to work such magic with only a blow-dryer and a round brush was beyond me, but the effect was lovely. One side of my head was slicked back and sporting a few gold-coloured barrettes, while the other side was a tumble of long, shining bronze locks.
Looking down at the dress that he had stuffed me in, I admired the completed effect it created along with the hair and makeup. The simple black velvet gown was flawless. The tailoring was exquisite, making me feel both comfortable and seductive. Understanding now why JB had so adamantly insisted that I splurge on my shapewear, I was glad that I had listened to his advice. While the constrictive layers would definitely make bathroom breaks difficult in the next few hours, the discomfort was well worth the effort.
The soft fabric had a slight stretch to it but was thick enough to hide whatever lumps had managed to work their way out of my undergarments. Touching the seductively soft material, I had to admit that it was a tactile pleasure to caress, each sweep of my hand mesmerized by the dense pile. Each step a sweep of swooshing textile making me feel as if I were truly a princess readying for a ball.
Working a desk job, I had what could flatteringly be described as a curvy frame, but the dress exaggerated what female lushness I had and hid everything unflattering. Cut in a simple yet elegant way, the dress skimmed my torso and hips and then fell below the knee in glorious folds to the floor. Tastefully low cut in the front, long-sleeved and cinched at the waist, it was beyond perfection.
And I felt completely wrong in it.
The woman staring back at me wasn’t the slightly awkward, too tall, somewhat overweight structural engineer, but a confident and beautiful, statuesque creature from a different world. The reflection was aspirational in a way that I had a hard time understanding. Standing straight, shoulders back, she was ready to face the world, and their criticism of her be damned. A slight smile spread across her features and a glint of mischievousness sparkled in her blue-grey eyes. She was approachable and self-assured, and I didn’t recognize her at all.
Heartbroken that there was no way I could pull off this look, I turned to Josh with sadness. “Josh, I can’t go like this. People are going to talk. And not in a good way.”
He came to stand in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes with a solemn expression on his face. Very rarely did JB approach anything with this level of seriousness, so his grave expression sobered me, focusing my gaze on his face.
“Alex, this may come as a huge surprise to you, but this is you! I may slip into my alter persona every night, but trust me, Firenze is as much an extension of my personality as this woman is of you. I like to think of my drag as freedom. Freedom from judgement, from fear, from the world. And today, I reveal what you are inside, even if you don’t know it, or don’t want to believe it. I hope you embrace her because this is who we see when we look at you.”
My eyes slid to Sarah, who had come up behind JB, and I saw the sheen in her eyes, as well as the slight nod she gave me, clearly in agreement with what JB had just said. I was deeply moved by his words. Is that really what they saw when they looked at me?
Not really believing them, I glanced back at my reflection, critically examining every detail for potential criticism. When I couldn’t find any – the woman staring back at me, daring me to be bold, was sheer perfection – I decided to not disappoint my friends and just enjoy the fairy Godmother moment.
The truth was that I wanted to be that woman. She seemed capable of taking on the world and casually shrugging off negativity. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? The people at the party were my coworkers and casual friends. They would certainly not begrudge me the opportunity to get dressed up on such a festive occasion. The party was a black-tie affair after all, they could hardly expect me to show up in my uniform of jeans and polos. With the decision made, a rush of confidence swept through me, and I was suddenly excited about the night ahead.
Chuckling, I slipped on the ridiculously high heels JB had placed in front of me and took a deep breath. The heels added an extravagant amount of height to my already too-tall frame, but playing into the fairy-tale role, I embraced it.
“Here goes nothing.” Laughing, I reached for the door handle. “Are you guys sticking around the room? Or are you heading out after?”
“Nah, I have a show tonight so I’m gonna grab my stuff and head out.”
Sarah was already packing up her bag. “I have a date so I’m outta here too. It is Friday after all.” She said as she winked at me. “Make sure you have the best time ever and call me in the morning. Isn’t that cute new guy you were gushing about coming?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she said the last part and I couldn’t help but smile. Sarah was always trying to set me up.
Josh just rolled his eyes and continued packing. He was a great advocate of stable long-term relationships, having been with his boyfriend for over seven years now, and could not understand how Sarah continued to be happy going on first dates every week.
“I’ll call you guys tomorrow morning. We still on for brunch at my place on Sunday?” Sarah gave me a thumbs up and Josh nodded absentmindedly.
Having exhausted my delay tactics, I slipped out the door and headed for the elevators at the back of the building. While I was starting to feel more and more comfortable in my new persona, I was not quite ready to exit into a large group of people, or worse, get stuck on an elevator with a colleague who might or might not recognize me.
As I waited for the elevator, the pain in my feet that had started the instant I had slipped on the slightly too-small heels began to shoot up my legs and I had to shift my weight from one foot to the other to relieve the ache. By the time the thankfully empty elevator arrived I was trying not to moan as the discomfort manifested itself into a calf cramp.
Due to my height, I tend to not wear heels. The inevitable questions resulting from my various attempts always seemed like they were not worth the effort. ‘Wow, you’re so tall.’ Thanks? What would I have done if you didn’t tell me that? ‘Why do you wear heels if you’re so tall?’ Duh. Cause they’re pretty and I like them? ‘You must be seven feet tall in those.’ Yeah, and? ‘You must have a hard time finding men taller than you.’ Of course, I must. I’m a freakish abnormality that must hide in a cave somewhere. Not willing to put myself through any more stupid encounters with surprisingly opinionated strangers, I simply didn’t wear heels. It didn’t exactly solve the underlying problems, just made people less vocal. But tonight was a special occasion.
As the elevator descended with painful slowness, I cursed JB, and the stupid shoes he had brought for me, with every fibre of my being. When the elevator was a few floors from the second floor where the party was being held, I quickly made the decision to go back up to my room and change into flats. There was no way I was going to enjoy myself in the devices of torture currently binding my feet into a smaller size. Not wanting to be questioned by any of the party guests as to why I was going straight back up after exiting the elevator, I decided to get off before the second floor. Hitting the third-floor button so I could return to my room with anonymity, I quickly managed to slip out of one my shoes, sighing in pleasure as the pressure in my foot eased. But the other shoe got snagged on the hem of my dress, forcing me to bend down to try to untangle the heel from some thread it had caught on.
When the doors opened, I quickly hopped on my one bare foot out of the elevator as I tried desperately to free my other foot, conscious of the ridiculous picture I posed. As the doors closed behind me and the elevator continued to the second floor, I was still completely ensnarled, my focus solidly on the unaccommodating accessory. Hoping that the floor I was on was empty, I increased my efforts to disentangle the thread without completely destroying the hem of my gorgeous dress. Just as the heel came free, I whooped in triumph and hurled into a very solid barrier.
A very, very male barrier.