2. BRYCE

I worked at Hive three nights a week as one of their main DJs, I was even on the fliers they handed out and the little posters they plastered around some of the advertising spots in the city. It was just my name, DJ brYCE with a small tiara by the name.

And it wasn't until the group said I should show up in one of the princess dresses and tiara that I actually began booking more gigs. It was strange, at first, taking something I only did in private out into the open sphere where the world could stand and watch. To me, it satisfied a core part of my being, to play princesses, and it satisfied the rest of me too with a source of income. People came from all over the city to one of my club nights, and some of them even came to me just to be sprinkled with glitter.

Most of my sets began with an ode to the nineties, bringing out some Spice Girls and Britney, mixed in with R&B or a little drum and bass depending on the night. Most of my time was spent thinking up ways of mixing, and I did all of that from the comfort of my apartment and the very expensive equipment.

Fridays were exhausting though. Everyone went hard on a Friday. It meant the venues were packed full of sweaty bodies. Thankfully, I had an entire DJ booth on a stage to call mine, and even a nice, industrial fan to keep me cool.

Usually, I went unbothered in the booth. The occasion person came up and asked for a song, and then they'd pester me until I agreed, or I was asked for glitter. Rarely were people showing up behind me and standing all over the back of my cute princess dress.

It happened for a third time when I turned to see a man, taller than me, which was nice. Dressed in a suit. I looked him up and down as he mouthed something now that he'd caught my attention.

"What?" I shouted, pulling the headset over my neck and leaning in to him.

"Sorry," he said. "For standing on you."

"What are you doing?"

If he'd inched forward a little, he might've actually been standing on top of me. "I was told to wait here."

"Listen, if you're waiting for your friends, you can't do it behind me," I grumbled, growing annoyed.

It wasn't until I noticed the venue manager, Theresa approach, when I realized he looked over dressed, and he might've been here to see her.

"I'm sorry for standing on your dress," he said. "Let me get you a drink." He glanced to his wristwatch as Theresa made her way into the booth.

"I'm working," I told him.

He nodded as Theresa grabbed his arm and mumbled something.

I took his other arm. "I finish my set in fifteen minutes," I said, flashing my free hand three times hoping he'd catch on to the figure I was attempting to tell him.

Accepting drinks from strangers wasn't something I did often, but after being stood on by the stranger, and feeling an odd magnetism toward him, I actually didn't mind getting a drink out of it.

Watching the man and the venue manager walk off through one of the concealed doors in the back, I got back into the zone with the headset secured around the back of my head. There wasn't room for it over my head, that was strictly reserved for the tiara. But as I went back to the music, the man's eyes, so calming and blue were all I could think about.

As my set wound down, I handed over to DJ Dami, he played deep house music to see the people through to the very early hours, the type of hours that had people walking out of the venue with the first light of the day.

It took me another fifteen minutes after finishing to pack away my things. And by that point, I'd forgotten what I'd told the man who'd been nearly rubbing himself up against me.

However, he hadn't forgotten at all.

In a VIP booth beside the packed bar, in the corner of it, under a halo of light, he locked eyes with me and gestured to the glasses on the table. Two tall glasses filled with something orange and carbonated.

It took me five minutes to wade my way through the little crowd area to him, carrying my kit on my back. It was still fairly loud in the booth area, but not so much I couldn't hear him as he stood and welcomed me.

"I'm Everett," he said, leaning in and kissing the back of my hand. "I hope that's allowed, princess."

My entire body would've melted right there and then if I didn't know how dirty these floors were, and the last thing I wanted was to have my nice princess dress ruined by the sticky spilled drinks in the surrounding area.

"I'll allow it," I said, scooching myself into the booth seating. I placed my bag in the spot beside me.

He smirked. "It's way past my bedtime," he said.

"Well, it's three in the morning, when do you go to bed?"

"Ten," he said. "I have a business to run. In fact, the entire reason I am awake is because of that business, and the Red Bull I drank."

"Oh, I'm Bryce."

"I know, Theresa mentioned your name. Also, I wanna apologize for standing on your dress again earlier. I was there because, well, it's my job to scope out venues from all angles."

I continued to stare at him, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I couldn't place what his job would be. He clearly wasn't here to be event security, as someone proclaiming to be up past his bedtime.

"Ask the question," he said.

"What is it you do?"

He gestured to the glass. "I didn't know if you drank alcohol, so I grabbed some orange soda, whatever they had on tap here," he said. "Plus, I don't think princesses drink."

"Smart," I said, taking the glass and quenching my thirst with the icy drink. It was refreshing after walking through all the sweaty bodies. "So, Mr. Private, what do you—"

"I run a cybersecurity firm," he said, taking his glass and tapping the rim of mine. "They're thinking of upgrading operations here. There's a lot of blind spots from the existing security cameras, and you don't have any real advanced tech."

I gestured with a hand over my head. "I have no clue."

"So, what do you do? Besides be a princess."

"Nope," I said, taking another sip of soda. "You got it right. I'm just a princess."

"Is it your schtick? Looking like a glitterball, wearing the dress, the tiara? I always feel old, thinking about jocks in college cross dressing for some banal attention seeking event." He looked away, his upper lip curling. "To each their own I guess."

"I enjoy dressing like this," I said. "It's freeing. If you asked a therapist, they'd probably tell you I was healing my inner child, or something. But if I could let you feel what I felt, I think it would blow your mind."

Everett sucked in a deep breath, pulling in his bottom lip with his teeth. "I would say try me, but I'm too hopped up on caffeine to actually allow you."

I couldn't tell if he was flirting, or genuinely apologizing for getting too close earlier. He was difficult to read, and my reading comprehension skills were pretty good. I rarely stumbled over my words anymore.

"Well, I should be off," I said. "It was nice to meet you, but I'm desperate to get home and hang my tiara up for the night."

As I shuffled to leave the booth, he grabbed my hand. "Before you go, I'd love to see that wand you were shaking over the crowd," he said. "Not for security reasons, but curiosity."

"You want me to sprinkle glitter on you with my wand?" I asked. It was in the side pocket of my bag. "It's actually just a stick painted silver with a star on top and then I have a—" I grabbed it to show him. "It's a small pot filled with fine glitter that only lets out a fraction when shaken."

He held a hand out. "I don't mind a little glitter."

I dusted him with it. "That's the thing about glitter. You don't get to decide where it goes, it goes where it wants, and from there, it duplicates. You'll never get rid of it now."

Everett flashed me a smile. "I think I'll survive." He held his hand up in the light above him. "It was nice meeting you, Bryce. And what's your princess name?"

"Princess Valeria," I said, throwing back non-existent hair over a shoulder.

"Well, Princess Valeria, I hope we meet again," he said.

"Maybe not. You said you're always in bed around this time."

He shrugged. "The city has a way of connecting people. Unless you're also a hermit, or look so completely different out of that pretty blue dress, we might not meet again."

Now he was absolutely flirting, well—partially confirmed. He called my dress pretty. "You know where I work," I said, shuffling out of the seat a little more.

"And when you're not working here?" he asked. "What if I wanted to find you?"

"Then Mr. Cybersecurity man, I'm pretty sure you have all those fancy tools at your disposal to help you," I said.

It wasn't until I was out of the venue when I realized how cocky I'd played it back there. I should've handed my number over to him and begged him for a date. He was the only solid lead on a proper date in a while. In all fairness, I was just a mirror, reflecting his energy back onto him. He was playing it cool, and I interpreted that as one foot in the world of flirting, and another in the world of potential friendship.

In the Uber back to my apartment, while on the receiving end of the driver making sure I wasn't making a mess in his car, I searched Everett online. Mr. Cybersecurity was actually pretty easy to find. The lighting in the nightclub didn't do him justice. His eyes, his hair, his smile. I let out a giggle, prompting the driver to question me again.

Screenshotting Everett's picture from his company's website, I sent it into the group chat. Everyone was fast asleep. I continued to deep dive into everything Everett once I was back home. I didn't even care to unpack my bag. I put soft lo-fi beats through the surround sound speakers.

I'd uncovered social media that proved Everett was gay, and was more than likely hitting on me. I wondered if he was good at his job and wanted people finding his online profiles, or bad at it and couldn't keep his digital footprint clean.

After undressing from my dress and hanging it up inside a garment bag, ready to be cleaned. In the diffused soft light of my apartment, I could see all the dirt built up around the edges of the dress, and even some of the drink I'd accidentally spilled down the front of it. But as soon as it was off, I went to make a grilled cheese in nothing but my boxer briefs.

Against the splash tile on the counter of the kitchen, I propped my phone up to keep re-reading Everett's profile on his company website. It was a fun game of what I could pay attention to the most, this gorgeous man who'd potentially wanted to go on a date, and the oil in the frying pan spitting at me and the melted cheese coming out the sides of the toasted bread.

His company was located in Tribeca, which was a little trek away, but surely if I wanted to, I could wonder around outside and wait for the opportune moment to bump into him, go for coffee, and then see what he really wanted from me. Or maybe he just wanted Princess Valeria. I didn't mind that either, some guys were into the fantasy, I was very much also into the fantasy and desperate to find a Daddy King to satisfy those needs.

I took a shower shortly after, knowing I would still be covered in small speckles of glitter. My bathroom had the industrial exposed brick wall on one side with the chrome and white counter of the vanity and sink, and the other side was an open shower room with a single sliding glass door.

Behind my eyes every time I closed them as the warm water washed over me, I pictured Everett's cool blue eyes staring back at me.Sliding down the bath tile wall, I sat on the floor with the shower hitting my back.

With my cock in a fist, I worked it hard. I cupped my balls with the other hand and toyed with my hole slightly, just a slip of the finger from the angle. It was all I could while massaging my balls in the center of my palm.

Tonight was different to a regular night. I wasn't hauled up in bed with internet porn, and some lotion in one hand as I relaxed into a slightly spiraled fantasy dildo that tickled my insides. I was raw dogging my imagination now, pinpointing elements of Everett, from the touch his hand on my wrist, to the way he spoke. The patter from the shower, almost imitating the gravel in his voice.

I last another five minutes with a finger teasing my ass. But that wasn't what did it for me, it was the complete overstimulation of the shower on my skin.

As soon as I came, it was washed away. I laid my head back into the shower, defeated in relief. I knew my imagination was a powerful place, and I was building Everett up in it. I really needed to see him again, in the light of day, post-nut with an extra dose of clarity.

Once I was out of the shower, I nearly passed out in bed. I'd done things out of order. Masturbation was usually after showering and already being comfortable in bed. I'd spent every last ounce of energy I had rolling on top of the bed and wrapping myself in the comforter like I was a burrito.