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   Chapter 51 No.51

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5298

Updated: 2018-02-07 19:01

'That was Sheryl, ' said Steven, scribbling out bull and horns.

'I want to create a place where artists like me go and feel safe. See those costumes on the floor. They're mine ...'

I knew it, thought Steven.

'You still there?'

'Well actually, I was just thinking of leaving. I really must find Sheryl and ...'

'Let me show you my plan.'

The bathroom door clicked open and Johnston filled the doorway.

'What do you think?' he said.

His large body wavered just slightly as he casually leant against the doorframe, with one hand resting on his hip. His dark body was bare but for a pink corset and stockings, knee-high boots and a fluorescent G-string stretched to full capacity. His padded bosom heaved with each breath.

Bloody hell, thought Steven.

Johnston wiggled his pelvis, causing a flutter of glitter, 'Cool huh? I made it myself. I'm going into business with Steel, feminine clothes for the larger man, it's all in the cut, ' said Johnston. 'And the material, this is stretch see, and Velcro, lots of Velcro. Just think, all those big men who can't get a thing to wear and look at these boots huh?'

Steven knelt beside Johnston to feel his boots, just as Sheryl and Harry walked into the room.

'Ah, ' slurred Johnston, 'the wobbly belly dancer.'


Sheryl and Harry surveyed the scene, and in silence came to the same conclusion.

'What the hell are you doing, Johnston, that guy is as straight as a flag pole...' said Harry.

'I know, but he's an artist like me. He understands the creative process.'

'That creative process

said Nefertiti.

'No!' said Martin, 'Just look at these pictures.'

He passed the phone across to Nefertiti. She looked at the pictures and saw what Rodger saw, and for the first time in a long time, let him move close to her.

Karin watched; Rodger's guard was down; this was his moment, he snuck up behind Nefertiti.

With each picture Nefertiti looked at, she felt closer to her Rodger, and the burden of the last few months rolled away. By the time she got to the end, she felt inspired by the Flower of Scotland collection, inspired by La Vida Loca still playing, and more than a little inspired by the half bottle of Jack Daniel's. She tilted her head to the stars; the same stars that shine over the sands of Egypt, and let out a shrill howl from the bottom of her lungs. She then lifted her cane (to the same stars) and began to twirl it in time to the music, this time dancing for pleasure. For this was going to be her last dance. There was a new Nefertiti, she thought, a new path to follow, a path Rodger had seen long before she had...

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