Page 33 of Toy No More

“You came early,” I hear next to me.

I turn sharply, expecting Apollo. Instead, a young woman stands there, wearing high heels with a fluffy cropped jacket and a short black dress underneath. I open my mouth, wanting to tell her she’s mistaken me for someone else when, behind the long raven hair and heavy makeup, familiar grayish-blue eyes peer at me.

My brows shoot up. “Apollo?!”

He smiles and I fully see it.Him.

I blink, frozen in shock. At first sight, I never would have known. Mostly because of how unmistakably feminine he appears. I know little about makeup, but he seems to wear the full package—pinkish blush on his cheeks, highlights and contouring on his nose and cheekbones that change their shape slightly, and extravagant, sparkly eyeshadow. The silver and shimmering blues make his eyes pop. They look like two shining moons reflecting on the surface of a still, dark lake.

“That’d be me. Now…shall we go?” Apollo asks, raising his brows that are darker and thicker than usual, too. He straightens his hand out to me, a simple leather handbag swinging off his shoulder as he does. “There’s a bar around the corner with a nice rooftop garden we can sit in and have a drink. If that’s what you want.”

Some hesitance peaks out in his words, so I quickly accept and follow his lead, holding him arm in arm.

A strange sense of excitement rushes through me as we walk. It’s almost like I’m doing something forbidden. Is it the thought of only me knowing who Apollo really is? That he isn’t just a gorgeous young woman?

Maybe. Either way, it tickles some unknown, deep part of me.

“Do you do this often?” I ask softly while staring ahead. I try not to leave any space for judgment in my voice. That’s not what I want him to think. I’m just surprised. Who wouldn’t be? He mentioned nothing about it.

“Cross-dress? Sometimes, when I go out alone,” he says in a light, breezy tone. Unable to hold off any longer, I curiously glance up and down at him. He really has the most impressive, slender, feminine legs. Smooth and long. I never noticed that before.

Apollo notices my gaze and smirks.

“It’s hard to be recognized by the clients being out with their wives and families when I’m like this. Those kinds of encounters can get weird outside of work. But I enjoy playing dress up either way, from time to time. Makes me feel confident. Free. Like I can be whoever I want.”

I make an understanding hum before darting my eyes away again. “It-it does suit you,” I mutter, unsure if he can even hear me. He says nothing in response.

Shortly, we walk into a small grunge bar called Hotshot, hidden between a comic store and a sushi restaurant on the main street leading to more stores. It seems to be a familiar territory for him. He confidently holds my hand, pulling me behind him like a dog on a leash, before ordering us drinks at the bar. Then he takes us up the stairs onto the rooftop terrace.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s been here with other people. People like me, perhaps—one-night stands with strangers he foundintriguing.

The space has a cozy, pleasant atmosphere to it. String lights run along the sides of the wooden patio roof with benches underneath. There are proper tables with people sitting down, smoking and chatting near the stairs and a few more lounge style seating on the other side.

With the backdrop of lofi music, we settle down in the corner, surrounded by large potted plants and a bunch of fake candles.

Apollo sits across from me, legs crossed, and leans in with a mojito in his hand, smiling mysteriously. Resting my glass of whiskey in my hands over my lap, I can’t help but gawk at him some more. He looks so ethereal, like a person from some magazine or a movie, with the long strands of that black wig falling down his shoulders and his pale, smooth legs on display. The short dress is pushed high up to his thighs.

“Sorry,” I say once I notice his smile has widened. He’s clearly amused by the effect he has on me. “You look really good. Like…an art piece, or something. You must’ve put a lot of effort in.”

Tilting his head, his expression changes to a playful smirk. “Which way do you prefer me? As a man, or a woman?” he asks, running his tongue over his upper lip without breaking eye contact.

I’m starting to regret coming here, seeing that I should’ve realized how striking the difference between his game and mine would be. Apollo seduces people for living. Flirting is his second language. Meanwhile, I… I tighten the drink in my hands, swallowing hardly while yelling at myself to not fall for it so easily.

“It’s you either way, no matter the presentation. I appreciate both,” I say, looking him up and down again before settling on his face. Apollo appears pleased by the answer, leaning back into his seat with a spark in his eyes. He presses his legs together so that his dress doesn’t reveal more than he wants to and I can’t stop myself from wondering what kind of underwear he’s wearing.

“Jasper isn’t a fan. He says it’s an obscene, ridiculous thing to do for a grown man; pretending to be something you know you aren’t,” he notes while glancing around and sips his drink.

I draw my brows together.Obscene?

Jasper runs a high-end brothel. He toys with people’s lives on the daily. Why the hell would this make him uncomfortable? Besides, Apollo looks gorgeous, whether one can appreciate him simply from the aesthetic point of view or in any deeper way.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” he asks while I’m thinking about the best response to what he said before.

We’re doing that awkward speedrun info dump thing, huh? I guess it’s better than knowing nothing about each other.

“I have. Never led to anything long-term, though. I think I…prefer being with men, really,” I say. How does one explain something like this? “What about you?”

His shoulders tense up a little. Pursing his lips, still slick and sparkly with whatever lipstick or gloss he’s wearing, Apollo makes an uneasy grimace. “Women are…intimidating to me in that way. And they do mostly miss the bits I enjoy,” he adds with a smirk, like he wants to quickly cover the hint of the genuine vulnerability he let slip out. “They just don’t have that indefinable thing to them. Thatsomethingin their aura.”

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