Chapter 22 - Let The Good Times Roll.

Justin showed up at Brian’s room around six that Saturday night. He was literally bouncing with excitement. Brian tugged the boy inside and then spent the next five minutes kissing him until he was at least calm enough to stand in one place. Of course, now Brian was the one who was excited - or at least his cock was excited - but that would have to wait if they wanted to get to the party before the doors were locked.

“Here you go, Blue Eyes,” Brian said handing his date the hanging suit bag he’d brought for him.

“For me?”

Brian nodded with a smile. Justin took the bag in hand, laid it out on the bed and unzipped it as if opening a present on Christmas morning. Then there was a squeal of delight that probably could have been heard out in the hallway if anyone had been passing by Brian’s room.

“A tuxedo? For me? I’ve never worn a tuxedo before Brian!” Justin pulled the suit out of the bag and hugged it to himself, spinning around as if he were dancing with the empty garment. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, Brian. Thank you!”

The boy danced his tux over to where Brian was standing and ended by kissing his man in gratitude.

“I hope it fits alright,” Brian said, trying to deflect all the boy’s enthusiasm. “Since you weren’t there to try it on, I had to guess a little on your measurements. I think it should be good enough though. We can get it tailored better for you later.”

“I get to keep it?” Justin seemed flabbergasted by that bit of news.

“Of course you get to keep it. I bought it for you. You didn’t think I was going to make you wear a rented suit, did you?” Brian was offended by the very idea.

“Oh, Brian! You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met! Thank you, thank you, thank you,” The thanks tapered off into a series of new kisses, which in Brian’s estimation were much better than the words anyway.

“Enough. Get dressed already, Blue Eyes. We need to get going or we’ll be late,” Brian ordered, turning to take up his own suit bag which held his own new tux.

Justin eagerly delved into the bag, unearthing all the accoutrements that went along with the beautiful new Calvin Klein, slim cut tuxedo. It was a classic cut, which Brian had thought appropriate, but with modern materials. The beautiful, lightweight, charcoal wool was soft to the touch and the satin collar, lapels and pockets were the perfect addition. When Justin put the pants on, Brian was happily surprised by how well the trousers fit despite the lack of tailoring. The double reverse pleating on the pants ensured that it fit Justin’s perky bubble butt just right. With the crisp, well-starched white dress shirt and grey-blue checkered vest and matching bow tie, the kid looked positively edible.

Brian finished admiring Justin’s tux and quickly put on his own. For himself he’d chosen a classic black Ralph Lauren Barathea tux paired with a black satin shirt and solid black paisley-imprinted silk tie. He thought he looked a little like Johnny Cash in his all black ensemble. With the long black wool overcoat, the impression would be perfect.

“Wow, Brian! You look amazing! I’m going to have to beat those other boys off with a stick to keep them away from you,” Justin gushed, running his fingers down the satin lapels of his date’s suit. “Too bad we have a party to go to. I’d almost skip it just so I could stay here and peel that tux off you again.”

“Same back at ‘ya, Blue Eyes,” Brian returned, reaching out to straighten the boy’s tie one last time. “But we can do that later. Right now, I’m looking forward to showing you off.”

With a couple of minor adjustments in the mirror, they were both ready and out the door once again. It was only three Tube stops up to the Mayfair neighborhood and then the boys were walking through the gentrified streets heading west towards Hyde Park. Thankfully, Justin seemed to know where they were going, because Brian wasn’t as familiar with that area as he was with Covent Garden. Brian knew they must be getting near when he noticed a couple walking ahead of them down the street - the gentleman, a short, squat man with greying hair, and his ‘date’ a gangly person, at least six feet tall, with a rather ill-fitting wig and dress, who tottered on the heels they were wearing as if they weren’t accustomed to such things. Brian laughed under his breath, thinking to himself that his buddy Em did a much better drag act. Of course, the queers of this time probably didn’t get as much practice at it as his friend, who took almost any opportunity he could to dress up.

“I think this is the place,” Justin spoke up a moment later, nodding at a large, dignified looking building with ivied walls and a well trimmed front walk. “Blimey, this place is swanky.”

“Excuse me,” said a deep bass voice, as a large figure dressed in a gown that would have put Marie Antoinette to shame bustled past them. Brian wondered how the guy wasn’t freezing to death in that low-cut dress, but figured that his exceedingly hairy chest must be helping to insulate him.

“Oh my . . .” Justin murmured, his eyes following the big queen who hefted his dress up so that he could stomp up the steps to the porch of the building ahead of them.

“Sunshine! ‘Andsome! You guys made it,” a more familiar voice echoed down the street as Lucky and his date, Curly, made their way towards them.

Lucky was dressed in a suit that looked like it might have been fashionable during the gay 20’s, complete with spats and a Great Gatsby hat; all he was missing to make the outfit complete was a gat gun. Curly, on the other hand, looked almost unrecognizable in a flapper’s dress with a turban wrapped around his head and full make up. If Brian hadn’t known he was a guy in drag, he’d have sworn that was a woman. Curly certainly didn’t look like the brash, and thoroughly masculine, young airman Brian had encountered in the White Lion just a few days before.

“Jeepers, Curly. You look . . .” Justin faltered, unsure what adjective to use in these circumstances.

“Fabulous, darling,” Brian offered, adding in a queenly lisp and a limp-wristed wave just for the fun of it.

They were all laughing riotously as they walked up to the door together. The door-woman was a very tall queen dressed in a Japanese kimono, stiletto heels and . . . well, not much else. She waved them in with a deep bow and then advised, in a raspy falsetto voice, they should take the stairs down to the basement. Once they made their way down, they were almost immediately enveloped in the noise and gaiety of a very rowdy party. The basement room, though fairly spacious, was packed with around fifty queers dressed in all sorts of fantastical costumes. There was a bar set up against the west wall and a small band in the far corner. Along the east wall were several couches and chairs with low tables and stools, all of which were overflowing with guests already making merry. The middle of the room was being used as a dance floor, and even though the party had only barely started, there were already several couples out there dancing. Justin seemed fixated on the two men - one a sailor and the other dressed in civilian clothing - dancing together cheek to cheek.

‘Yep, his boy was certainly going to get an education tonight’, Brian thought.

“Lucky! Lucky! Over here, dear!” someone was hollering to them before they’d even made it all the way into the room.

“Oh, there’s Sparky. Maybe he saved us a seat,” Lucky said, veering off towards that spot and leaving Brian and Justin to make their way to the bar alone. “Save me a dance for later, Sunshine?”

“Will do,” Justin responded, although Brian thought he looked a little uncertain about the matter.

“Relax, Blue Eyes,” Brian whispered, taking Justin by the elbow and leading him through the crowd to the bar. “Two whiskey’s and two ales,” Brian ordered the bartender, thinking his boy needed a little social lubricant to help him relax. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered his Blue Eyed Tyro and smiled as Justin followed his directions. Then he handed over one of the tumblers of whiskey. “Bottoms up.” Justin also followed that order, wincing as the bite of the liquor hit his throat. “Now, that’s better. Isn’t it?”

“Sorry, Brian. I’m just a little . . . overwhelmed,” Justin said, looking around him at the chaos of characters that surrounded them. “I’ve never been ANYWHERE like this before. I never even imagined . . .” He got distracted by the sight of a mixed race couple dancing past - another thing you probably didn’t see much of these days - both of them looking lovely in their tuxes. “Oh, look! Those must be the ‘Lesbians’,” Justin said, his voice dropping uncomfortably on the ‘L’ word, as he pointed to two women also wearing tuxedos. “I didn’t know there would be any of THEM here tonight.”

“Come on, Blue Eyes,” Brian said and handed him the second beer before leading the kid away to a quieter corner where he could stand and observe in peace until he’d managed to take it all in a little better.

Brian and Justin stood together in their corner, with Justin exclaiming over every costume and oddity that came into view while the older man chuckled along, more amazed by the boy’s innocence than the other revelers at the party. He was getting a real kick out of seeing the melee through Justin’s eyes. In his world, Brian pretty much took this type of thing as a given. He’d been around drag queens and queers since he was about fifteen and first realized he was gay himself. And back in 2016, this party would have seemed on the tame side. Face it, all anyone here was doing was dancing and maybe a little kissing between couples on the side. Even the dancing seemed relatively chaste compared to what he was used to seeing on a nightly basis in any gay club in 2016. But to Justin, it was like falling down the rabbit hole and finding Wonderland.

About the time that his boy seemed to be overcoming his amazement enough that he might be able to venture out into the crowd again, the Kimono-wearing hostess who’d let them in, made her way down the stairs and over to the band. The trumpeter nodded at her and stepped away from his place at the front of the stage, using a cutting motion to tell the band to quiet. The hostess approached the small microphone set up there, tapped it to make sure it was on and then, in that same odd falsetto voice, she began her announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen. And ladies who are gentlemen. And gentlemen who are ladies. And anyone else I might have forgotten,” there was a smattering of polite laughter. “Welcome to the King’s Anniversary Ball!” There was a round of raucous applause. “Our dear King George and his beloved Elizabeth are celebrating their eighteenth wedding anniversary tonight! Isn’t that lovely? So, let’s all raise our glasses to the happy couple. Long Live the King!” the queen intoned, adding in a much deeper voice, “or, as the girls and I down at the Caravan always called him, ‘Dear Bertie’.”

“Long Live Dear Bertie!” echoed all the guests followed by riotous laughter as everyone drank a toast to their monarch.

“Now that we’re all here and have drunk the required toast,” the hostess continued, “the doors are officially locked and the party is hereby declared to be in progress! Have a wonderful time, boys and girls! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do . . . which leaves you wide open! Have fun and be merry!”

After that the band started up with a fast-paced fox trot and the crowd surged onto the dance floor to begin the revelry in earnest.

“Care to take a spin with me, Blue Eyes?” Brian asked, holding out his hand to the younger man.

“I’d love to, Brian,” Justin answered, apparently emboldened by the atmosphere and the alcohol he’d already consumed.

Brian took the boy’s hand in his and led them through the throngs to a spot amid the dancing masses. Then he took a firm grip on Justin’s waist, pulled the boy up tightly against him, and began to guide the young man around the floor. Justin easily fell into pace with him, their bodies seeming to work together just as well on the dance floor as they did in bed. And, for a moment, everything else around them seemed to disappear as they glided around, arms wrapped around each other, only conscious of the music and each other.

As the music reached a crescendo, Brian gracefully dipped Justin backwards, the boy letting his head fall backward until his blond hair swept the floor. Then Brian pulled him back up, into his arms, lifting the smaller body all the way off its feet and spinning them giddily around and around. Justin was laughing and smiling so broadly that Brian was sure his grin was the main source of lighting for the entire room. He was ridiculously enamoured of his boy right at that moment, and couldn’t have stopped himself from tipping his head forward to kiss those perfect lips even if he’d wanted to. Justin happily kissed him back - their first public kiss - as Brian brought their spinning to a stop right as the last notes of the song they’d been dancing to died away. Even then, though, they continued to stand there and stare into each other’s eyes, only gradually becoming aware that their fellow dancers had made room for them on the floor and were now all standing around applauding their performance.

“Damn, you two make a beautiful couple, darlings,” the hostess stated as she came up to them and held her hand out to introduce herself. “Folks call me ‘Jade’.”

“Brian Kinney,” Brian accepted the handshake. “Love your party so far. Thank you for having us.”

“Oooo. An American. I just love American men. They’re so . . . rugged.” Then she turned her attention to Justin. “And who’s this adorable little morsel? You, I just want to eat up whole, Sugar.”

“I’m . . . I . . . I . . .” Justin stuttered and blushed and simply looked too adorable for words.

“This is the lovely ‘Sunshine’,” Brian offered, using the boy’s pseudonym in case he wanted to keep his real identity a secret. “And he’s American too, but living here in your fair city for the time being.”

“Well, well, well. Two such lovelies at my little party. I must have done something good in a prior life to be graced with a double dose of such manliness,” Jade said, reaching out to chuck Justin under the chin in a familiar fashion. “Welcome, boys. I’m glad you’re here. Please enjoy yourselves. And if you need . . . Anything . . . just ask for Jade.”

Then the hostess moved on to greet another of her guests, leaving Brian and his tongue-tied blond to make their way off the dance floor over to an empty spot on a nearby couch.

“He seemed nice,” Justin finally found his voice as they seated themselves. “Or should I say ‘she’? I . . . I don’t really know. I’ve never met any other . . . ‘transvestites’.” He whispered the last word, obviously uncomfortable with it.

“The convention is to use whatever gender the person is presenting himself or herself in at the time,” Brian explained. “So, someone dressed in women’s clothing, regardless of their biological gender, can be addressed as she or her, unless they tell you otherwise. And, transvestite isn’t a dirty word, Blue Eyes. You can say it out loud.”

“Okay . . . Well, that seems fair,” Justin answered, looking at the couple that had just taken up the other end of their couch, the one dressed as a woman seeming to be taking the initiative in a kiss with the other one who happened to be dressed as a man. “Although, it does seem to get a bit complicated sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Life is complicated, Blue Eyes. Why should the people living it be less so?” Brian philosophized. “Now, instead of watching those two kiss, how about you kiss me again? That’s a much better use of our time, don’t you agree?”

“If you insist, Mr. Kinney,” Justin agreed readily, getting into the mood sufficiently that he leaned in and initiated this kiss.

After that, the party progressed quite nicely, at least in Brian’s estimation. Justin was definitely loosening up. He no longer stared at everyone that passed by like they were all a bunch of circus performers. Brian made sure to keep the drinks flowing at a steady pace and, in turn, Justin kept him returning to the dance floor again and again. They only saw Lucky and Curly from a distance most of the evening - those two seeming to be swarmed by a group of friends that included some of the more lascivious guests. Justin was still a little too reserved for that group, Brian thought, and so they kept mostly to themselves.

Before long a photographer came along - with his bulky box-type camera and huge flash equipment - and took photos of the guests, who grouped themselves accordingly on the couches and chairs. The photos seemed to get progressively more debauched as the night ensued. Justin staunchly declined to be included in any of these groups, though, clearly wanting to keep any potential evidence of his participation in the festivities to a minimum. Brian was okay with that, seeing as he wasn’t really supposed to be there in that decade at all. He did wonder where the photos would end up - probably in some gay history museum somewhere, illustrating the gay culture of the the times for future fags everywhere.

It must have been around eleven when the party was briefly disrupted by the building shaking a bit around their shoulders and the sounds of a distant booming. The band only paused a moment, though, before they started up again right where they’d left off in the song. Apparently, Londoners we so inured to the almost nightly bombing raids that they weren’t distracted by it. The party went on regardless. And you could only hear the very closest and loudest bomb explosions above the wailing of the trumpets anyway. It made Brian just a little worried though. Justin seemed to sense his disquiet and took charge of the kissing from then on out, making sure to distract Brian every time they heard another boom.

Which is probably why Brian didn’t immediately realize what was going on when the booming changed into the sound of banging and then loud boots coming down the stairs from the building’s entrance. It wasn’t until they were interrupted by shouting and even a rather girly scream, that the band stopped playing and everyone turned to look at the staircase. And even then, most people who looked over and saw the men dressed in police uniforms weren’t sure at first that this wasn’t just part of the entertainment.

“Shit!” Jade - who happened to be standing nearby at the time - growled, her gentile falsetto falling into a gravelly baritone. Then she raised her voice, yelling over the growing noise of the confused crowd. “It’s a damn raid. Everyone out! Save yourselves, Children!”

Which is when utter chaos broke out. Brian, who was tall enough to see over the heads of most of the others, could see that there were about ten police bobbies coming down the stairs. Most of the guests seemed intent on swarming them, creating a choke point at the bottom of the stairs, while everyone tried to fight their way through the police. It seemed like quite a few were getting through, too, but Brian was doubtful they’d make it far, especially if there were more police waiting at the top of the stairs.

“This way, Children,” Jade was stage whispering to those of her guests that were close enough to hear her over the cacophony of the crowd. “The back stairs are through here; behind the bar. Quickly, everyone! Quickly! Go, go, go!”

Brian didn’t wait to be told a second time. He grabbed Justin’s hand and towed the panicky pilot after him, shouldering past milling guests that didn’t seem to be reacting as quickly. There weren’t as many people at that end of the room, so Brian was able to make good progress. Over behind where the bar was set up, there was a small door that had been half-hidden by a drape so it wasn’t obvious unless you knew it was there. The band and most of the serving staff had already escaped through there and only a few of the guests seemed aware of this back way out, leaving Brian’s path clear.

Ducking his head and squeezing through the small portal, Brian made it through without letting go of Justin’s hand. The space behind the door was only a dark, bare-brick-walled cellar, the sides of the room stacked with kegs of beer, boxes of foodstuffs and crates full of wine bottles. At the far end of the dank little space, there was a ladder leading up through an open hatchway. Brian didn’t stop to look around him. He and Justin dashed to the ladder, climbed as quickly as they could and emerged into a dark, cobbled alleyway. The near end of the alley seemed to be a dead end, but off to the right, they could see dark figures disappearing around the corner, presumably heading onto the high street from there. With other escapees on their heels, Brian took off running as fast as he could, pulling Justin after him and heading for the road.

They’d almost made it too, when the exit was suddenly blocked by a solo figure outlined by the moonlight behind him, which clearly delineated the characteristic rounded hat of a London Bobbie.

The relative silence of the night was blasted to pieces by the blaring of a high pitched whistle, bringing Brian, Justin and all the rest of the fleeing partygoers in the alley to a screeching halt.

“By the authority of the Crown, I order you to halt!” the dark figure demanded, holding up one hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “You are all under arrest for violating Section . . .”

Presumably, the officer was about to rattle off whatever the ordinance number was for whatever they were going to be charged with. Unfortunately for him, his recitation was interrupted by the low whirring hum of a massively dark shape soaring by overhead and then, only seconds later, the alley was lit up by the orange glow of incendiary canisters dropping and breaking open all around them. Before anyone had a chance to recover, they were further startled by the sinister piercing whistle of a large HE bomb falling from the sky.

“Fuck this!” Brian growled and, taking hold of Justin’s hand once more, he lowered his head and charged forward at full tilt, aiming right at the startled bobbie.

Brian’s reaction seemed to buoy the rest of the crowd, all of whom started to run in the same direction, yelling at the tops of their lungs like an attacking phalanx of crazed berserkers. Brian plowed into the lone bobbie, tackling him like linebacker. He didn’t pause for even a second to see if the man was alright, continuing on his way at top speed, with Justin right behind him. The rest of their followers followed suit, trampling over the fallen policeman without regard. Brian only glanced back once, long enough to see the poor cop huddled on the ground while a beefy-looking guy in a dress walked over him, not even trying to avoid spiking him with a rather sharp looking size-thirteen pump.

Once the pack had made it to the high street, they turned to the left, away from the ruckus still boiling around the front of the club, galloping away toward the safety of Hyde Park as fast as they all could run.

They eventually made it all the way to the Marble Arch Tube station, and the group seemed to disburse from there. It was too late to get a ride back to Covent Garden - the trains had long ago been turned off for the night and the station itself was packed with folks sheltering from the raid - so Brian and Justin simply turned to the east and began to walk along Oxford Street. Luckily, the air raid seemed to be mostly over; it had only been a small one, comprised of a handful of planes, and not intended to do much more than keep the Brits in a state of unrest. Brian hoped that they could make it all the way back to The Strand Palace without encountering another wave of bombers. Either way, it was probably good that they were hoofing it, seeing as Brian really needed a way to burn through the adrenaline still coursing through his system.

“So, Sunshine, how did you like your first queer party?” Brian asked, after they’d been walking in silence for a while.

“The party, I liked. The dancing, I liked. The people, they were interesting and fun to watch. The raid part, though, I didn’t care for,” Justin reasoned. “I think I’m going to avoid any more queer parties for a while. I can’t get caught at one of those things, Brian. I just can’t.”

“It’s okay, Blue Eyes. I don’t particularly want to get arrested here myself,” Brian replied, wondering exactly HOW that would work, assuming that the police would pretty quickly find out his ID was fake and he didn’t have any other identity here in 1941. “Even though it totally sucks that we can’t even fucking dance together for fear of being arrested. It’s so ridiculous. Damned prudes, thinking they can legislate away the gay. It never worked in the past and it never will work. But someday, Blue Eyes . . . Someday we’ll be able to come out of hiding. We’ll be free to act and dress and kiss however we like. Whoever we like. Someday . . .”

“I hope you’re right, Brian. I hope you’re right,” Justin intoned, his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched over to conserve his body heat as the sweat from their run started to cool them.

Brian found he was huddling in a similar fashion, and suddenly realized something. “Damn. I left my new coat back there. I just bought the damn thing this morning, too.”

“Better to lose your coat than your freedom, Brian.”

“Yeah. You’re right there, Sunshine.” Brian grumbled. “You know what? Fuck it. I’m not going to let them ruin our night. As soon as we get back to The Palace, we’ll have our own celebration. A queer celebration to rock the ages. And, at our party, clothing is optional.”

“That sounds like a super plan, Brian. I can definitely get behind a plan like that,” Justin assured him.