Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Edgar was worried. The truth? Forget about it. Truth made people angry and resentful. Truth made people think you were crazy. Truth made everyone leave.
But Jamie was sitting across the table from him, and they looked stunning. They had asked him out. They seemed to maybe, possibly like him. And Edgar hadn’t been able to get them out of his head since the moment they met. The thought of Jamie’s face falling if he said no, of Jamie curling away inside themself, felt unbearable.
“Nothing big,” Jamie assured them. “Just to get to know each other. And you get three skips. So if there’s anything either of us doesn’t want to do or questions we don’t want to answer, we can use a skip. Okay?”
Edgar narrowed his eyes. “You just made up that rule, didn’t you?”
“Yes. What do you think?”
And Edgar, who hadn’t told the truth to anyone outside his family since he was twelve years old, agreed.
Jamie’s smile was as rewarding as he’d thought it would be.
“Fun. Okay, you go first.”
“Truth or dare?” Edgar asked.
“Truth,” Jamie said.
Edgar ran through questions in his head, but they all sounded like a kindergartner’s attempt—favorite color, number of siblings, middle name. Books. He could ask about books or movies. Yeah, movies were good.
But what came out of his mouth was, “What does it feel like to do burlesque?”
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, man. It’s amazing and terrifying and sexy and exhilarating. I started last year. My friend Ramona sent me a cryptic text saying to go to this burlesque performance. I thought she was gonna meet me there, but when I showed up, it was a performance and info meeting for people who wanted to join the troupe.”
Jamie gave a wry smirk and rolled their eyes at the thought of their friend.
“But I stayed because I was curious, and the performers were amazing. I’d only seen cis folks do burlesque. Seeing queer and trans bodies of all shapes and sizes onstage performing…it made me feel like maybe my body could be, like, appreciated?”
Jamie traced the edge of their bread plate with a fingertip, deep in thought, and Edgar thought of a dozen questions that it was too soon to ask.
“I appreciated it,” Edgar said softly. “You’re so…” Edgar frowned, searching for the right words. Jamie’s performance had been titillating and sexy, confident and a tease. Face-to-face, they were just as glamorous, just as sexy, but sweeter, more accessible. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
Jamie’s eyes were soft with appreciation.
“Thanks, Edgar. At the beginning of my transition, I went through a period of worrying that my body was…too complicated? It felt like people looked at me as if I was a mystery to solve rather than a person.”
Edgar leaned in subtly.
“But what I learned at that performance is that burlesque is all about the tease. The whole point is to choreograph a routine that creates mystery around certain parts of your body that you may or may not choose to reveal to the audience later. And that really appealed to me—the power of being the one to create the mystery rather than being at the mercy of others trying to solve it.”
“You’re like the author of the mystery instead of the reader,” Edgar said.
“Exactly.”
“Were you nervous about the, er, nudity part?”
“Yeah, for sure. But there was this trans performer there, and he explained that he doesn’t even take off much. He makes it feel as if he does because of how the routine is choreographed.” Jamie’s elegant fingers trailed along the belly of their wineglass. “It’s all about building up the tension to the point that even the revelation of a bare shoulder or thigh can feel legitimately titillating to the audience. Same principle as haunting, really.”
Jamie’s eyes were shining, and Edgar thought that he could happily sit in this restaurant all night and listen to them talk. Even, it turned out, about haunted houses.
“How so?”
Jamie sipped their wine. “We’re always trying to figure out how we can create the biggest impact with the smallest stimulus. It’s all about manipulating how someone experiences the environment. Distracting them with something over here.” Jamie held up their wineglass. “While over there”—they raised their other hand and put it under the table—“something is setting up to getcha!”
When they said getcha, they tapped Edgar’s knee with their empty hand, and he startled a bit, even though he’d anticipated it.
“And the more on edge the audience is, the less it takes to push them over. A sudden noise. A puff of air. A change of texture.” Jamie scratched his thigh lightly. “A bright light. That’s all it takes to make some people scream.”
Edgar felt fairly certain he would be one of the people in question. His skin felt electrified, and his mind supplied images of Jamie making him scream in less terrifying but equally potent ways.