Notes:

Characters: Mr. B. and The Pink (a challenger that bears a remarkable resemblance to one particular character in the original show)

Edited by lucel



<i>Mr. B. waits with his guide for the night to begin in the choosing lounge of The Challenge. He endures the horrors of the choosing process only to be challenged to a competition that forces him to do something he never would have done, never. Such a difficult challenge! Will Mr. B. gain the control? Or will he lose?</i>



<b>Challenges 4: The Flamboyant Umbrella</b>



Jack, my guide, had shown me around the bars, the restaurants, a gym, and other places in The Challenge which I could use for my pleasure. I sat quietly in the Choosing Lounge waiting for the doors to open. Ten o’clock came closer and closer, and I was becoming more and more nervous, though I desperately tried to hide it from everybody else in the room. I have never been so anxious in my life as I was at that table, shot of Beam in my hand and Jack sitting beside me. I was really glad I wasn’t waiting alone.

I let my eyes roam over the guests waiting with me. There were about 50 men in the lounge. Most of them sat at their tables in little groups. I thought that they must have met in the various challenges and had gotten acquainted with each other. Made sense that they would be friendly towards each other, they couldn’t have any idea when they would meet in a challenge again or what their roles would be. Not wise to antagonize somebody that might one day be in a position to take revenge on you…

I noticed that there was another man sitting with a guide.

“I’m not the only first timer here tonight, am I?”

“No, you aren’t, Beam.”

“Do you often have beginners to take around?”

“Not really, you and that man there are the first new members of the club in… let me think… in eight months. New members are invited only after other Quoins have recommended them, and our managers have found them acceptable. That doesn’t happen often. Even if the invitation has been given, it is not always accepted.”

No wonder. I remembered how I had struggled with the decision. 

That was how our conversation went on: haltingly. I couldn’t concentrate on one topic for more than a moment. I tried to project an image of confidence and ease, but on the inside I was a mess. I returned to my observation of the other guests. This lounge was well lighted, not like most of the bars in the building. I noticed that all the men were attractive. Most of them had thick and well groomed hair. Some were completely bald. There wasn’t anything in between. Not one face in the room was homely or even commonplace, every face was interesting. Some were pretty, even beautiful. I didn’t detect any trace of racial discrimination. Some had very exotic looks. Beards and mustaches were neat. They all were handsome men, and from what I could see, it seemed as though all of their bodies were well shaped. The men were of different heights and body types, but all were desirable. 

A murmur rose up among the crowd. I looked at my glass of beam and took a sip to give me strength. I knew that the doors had just opened. I took a deep breath and turned towards them. Then the men were entering the lounge. My hands were clammy as my fingers tried to dig into the glass. I was lucky I didn’t break it in my hand. I didn’t dare to look at Jack, I didn’t want to see pity or even worse in his eyes. At least I didn’t throw up, thank The Powers for little things.

First to enter were men in bright colored outfits, which looked pretty garish, though every outfit was very flattering to its wearer. Behind them came the grays, wearing every shade of gray imaginable. The last to enter were the browns. I didn’t see any gold among the colors.

“Jay isn’t there, so I would say you don’t need to worry about the Gold or the Blue challenge tonight, Beam.” 

Jack had noticed the same thing. I was grateful for that little favor from the powers above. Two challenges known to be almost impossible to win were nowhere to be seen. My spirit lifted a notch, and I could even loosen that knot in my gut a little…

“The first to choose is The Scarlet”, Jack informed me.

I searched for a scarlet outfit and to my amazement found it on a man who was quite old. He seemed to be in his late fifties. He was a handsome man, but old! It took me a while to process what I saw. Of course, there would be older men among the members of the club. And regardless of their age they would follow the same rules as all the others here. I took one more look at my fellow guests and saw what should have been evident at once: distribution of ages among the men was very wide. I, at 27, was among the youngest. Well, that was just one more thing to add to the tension. 

The challenges took their time to look over the crowd of guests. They walked among the tables greeting their friends and other acquaintances. I saw interest in looks that were cast my way. Was it really interest in me or interest in somebody new? The waiting was torturous. The knot in my poor gut tightened again. I think my forehead was clammy at that point as well as my hands.

In about ten minutes, the challenges started the selection. They gathered in front of the doors and then without preamble The Scarlet made a beeline towards me. I was just this close to bolting at that moment! The knot in my gut turned into a red hot ember. I don’t know what kept me in my seat. I don’t know if Jack said anything to me. I don’t know if I said anything to him. But I know that the time it took The Scarlet to walk to me was a century at least. Then he was in front of me, and then he walked past me.

I sat there like a moron! I’m sure my face was as red as a cherry, and any composure I might have had was just a memory. Unfortunately the floor didn’t show any sign of being willing to swallow me up.

When my brains were once again online, The Scarlet had done his choosing and was leaving the lounge with a man close to his own age. The Emerald was next to choose. He started moving to some point across the room from me. I remembered how to breathe again. After The Emerald had made his choice and left with the “lucky” man, Jack chuckled suddenly. I looked at him questioningly. 

“Sorry! I didn’t know that The Pink was back again. He is such a treat! And I’m afraid you are in danger of capturing his interest. You are exactly his type.” 

While The Buff chose his victim, I tried to locate The Pink in case he might become my fate. I found him easily. There was no way I could have missed him! He was very tall, maybe as tall as I am. He seemed a delicate wisp of a man regardless of his height. His slender arms seemed to flutter gracefully everywhere at the same time. His long legs moved him here and there with little mincing steps. His bright eyes were in constant motion, and his expression changed with every breath he took. His pink “ensemble” was outstandingly pink: fluffy pink sweater paired with leather pants in a darker shade of pink. Even his hair was pink. Do I need to spell it out? The man was a flaming “pink” queen! 

“Beam, I forgot to warn you. Although many of the challenges are club members, not all of them are, and it is not recommend that you ask of they are or not. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier!”

“No harm done, Jack. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s The Pink next.”

“Wish me luck!”

But would it be luck to be chosen by The Pink or not to be chosen by him? I wasn’t exactly sure myself so don’t ask me!

“Hey, handsome. You wanna dance?”

Yes! I was chosen by The Pink. I looked at Jack one last time. He looked as though he couldn’t decide if he was sorry for me, or if he would just burst out laughing. I had to restrain my urge to smack him as I followed the Pink out of the lounge.

The Pink lead me to his room. It was decorated in shades of lilac, violet, and dark blue and was very nice looking. A bit on the feminine side for me, but all in good taste, anyway. 

“You can call me Em. What name do you use?”

“Beam will do.”

“Your favorite drink? I should have guessed. For what ever reason, that old fashioned drink seems to be a favorite of you butch men.”

Em was quite right. Jim Beam is quite a rare drink. I had first tasted it at the Quoin of Madrid a few years back. It is nothing like other drinks I have ever tasted: strong enough to make me cough and bring tears to my eyes as it burns its way down my throat, but with a final unimaginable richness of earthy flavor. There is no sweetness, but its unidentifiable bitterness is not unpleasant. It was a man’s drink, and butch men favored it, as Em said. Every Quoin I had visited since had it on their list of rarities. Otherwise the drink was difficult to find. Only a few bars and restaurants recognized the name, and only a few of those served it. Liquor stores didn’t have it: at least I had never found one that did.

“Why do you call it old fashioned?” I had thought it was a new drink that had not become popular yet – if it ever would.

“Because it is. It has been made in exactly the same way since 1795.”

“Since 1795… you’ve got to be kidding me, right Em?”

“No, not at all. You see, The Challenge Quoin owns the distillery.”

“Yeah, that information came from The Challenge archives, right?”

“What?”

“I asked the guide, Jack, about the old building down there – you know the one? – and he told me that it had good reference archives on the Challenge. Did you get that Beam distillery info there?”

“That’s too much like work for me!” Em laughed. “I once asked Jay about the whiskey because it has such an odd flavor.”

“What else did he tell you about Beam?”

“The drink was a favorite of one of the managers of The Challenge when the distillery wanted to update the process in the 2120’s. The drink had lost its market: the population in general had begun to prefer sweeter drinks, males included. As I understand it, males had preferred less sweet drinks than females did for a long time.”

“So the guy bought the distillery to save his favorite drink? He must have really liked it!”

“Must have.” Em laughed and handed me a glass of the golden colored drink.	

“Well, we didn’t come here to talk about drinks, did we Em? What is your challenge?”

“A very simple one. All you need to do is out-queen me.”

That made me reel for a minute. My mind conjured up this image of me in a figure hugging pink dress barely long enough to cover my ass… 

Out-queen Em? Me? I’m butch. I’m not one little bit effeminate! I’m lean, maybe even slender but not like Em. I couldn’t hide my strong shoulders or biceps or... and my face, sharply drawn brow lines, determined set of mouth and square jaw line. Any female clothing would only emphasize my maleness. And make me look ridiculous. Without doubt that was why Em preferred to pick a butch man for his ridiculous challenge. I guess I glared at him a bit threateningly because he took a couple of steps back.

“Out-queen you?” I was very impressed with my moderate tone of voice.

Em glanced at his footwear and then flashed a smile. “Admittedly, it’s not an easy challenge.”

“No kidding. So, how is this little contest done? It’s not a private matter, is it?”

“No, it’s public. This challenge will be fought in the lounge at 11:30 pm. At that time anyone who has accepted a public challenge will be there, and all the participants become the audience for each of the challenge shows. Both of us will have five minutes to perform, then the crowd will vote for a winner. You have an hour to come up with an act and to find whatever you will need for your show. Daphne!”

At Em’s call a young woman came in. “Beam, this is Daphne. She will help you with your needs for the show. She will also lead you back to the lounge as soon as you have your act together. Daphne, here, meet Beam. Good luck, Beam!”

I stared at his receding back trying to hide my apprehension. “Thanks.” My voice was barely audible.

Em left me with Daphne, a colorful young person with exotic looks: she had latte colored skin and platinum blond hair; though her eyes were almond shaped, they were the palest of blue. Even more exotic were her clothes; her dress reminded me greatly of 18th century fashion, but the skirt was very short.

“So, Daphne. Is this your normal work?”

“Yes, Beam, it is. Em always gives the same challenge, and I have been the assistant since the first time.”

“How many times so far?”

“I haven’t counted, but the first time was about three years ago.”

“What can you tell me about this challenge?”

“What would you like to know, Beam?”

“What his performance is about? What kind of response he tries to bring out from the audience?”

“He is very funny. He makes them laugh. But there isn’t just one performance that he repeats night after night. Every night is different with him.”

“Could you give me an example?”

“He dresses in drag or in some other flamboyant costume. Then he might sing, or perhaps do a monologue about trying to find a shoe in his closet. It’s hard to be more specific.”

“Is he usually the winner?”

“Yes. But not always.”

“He chooses men that haven’t his natural advantages for the challenge. How does the audience react to their performances?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“That bad?”

She just looked at me with a crooked smile and saying nothing. There had to be something that would roll the dice in my favor. I couldn’t lose, I wouldn’t lose, or that would mean two weeks of slave labor as a whore! I couldn’t, my reputation couldn’t possibly survive that! It couldn’t be impossible to win. Some of the men Em had challenged had succeeded in it. I could do that too if I could find the answer in time.

“Those men who have won his test. Tell me about their acts!”

She did tell me, and I came up with a plan. Then she helped me to create the props I would need for my performance – she was very handy with the replicator. Daphne lead me to the lounge but said she wasn’t welcome inside. She left me to take my things to the backroom that I would use as dressing room to change for the show. 

I came back into the lounge to find that it had been transformed! Its bright lights had been replaced with a salacious red murkiness. The background music that earlier had been calming and quiet was now stimulating and loud. The lounge was smaller because some areas had been partitioned off, a performance stage had been set up in front of the band, and I think even the ceiling had been lowered to create a more intimate atmosphere. By 11:15 pm, there were about ten challenges with their victims in the lounge. There were also guides and some other members of the staff, though Em wasn’t there yet.

“The Pink will be the first challenge for tonight, Beam.” My guide, Jack, sat down at my table. 

“Lucky me.”

“At least you don’t have to wait for your turn in the spotlight, Beam.”

“Will I go first or will he?”

“You will decide that with him as soon as he arrives.”

I didn’t need to wait for long. Em greeted Jack – enthusiastically kissing him of course – and then turned to me. 

“We are the first to perform, Beam. We should go to our dressing room now.” 

And we did. We decided that Em would perform first. I wanted to know what I was competing against. I also needed to get some feeling about the audience. And I needed to be alone for a moment, too. I watched his performance from the dressing room door.

Em stepped onto the darkened stage. The music stopped, the crowd quieted down, and one bright spotlight came up to illuminate his still figure. He wore a wig: long, curly and blond. His lips were full and shiny red in his pale face, and his eyes were somewhat hidden behind his bangs. He was dressed in an evening gown of deep red velvet. The bodice of the dress kissed his figure from his graceful – if artificial – breasts to his well rounded hips and left his shoulders and arms bare. The slit of the skirt let the audience see one of his slender legs almost to his hip, and he wore high heeled red pumps. Though he wore no jewelry, one deep red rose had been tied to his left wrist. Em made a very beautiful woman.

Em stayed still for a moment, then gave a nod to the band. He had all the mannerisms of a sophisticated diva. The music gently flowed into the room. Then Em started to sing, and I got one hell of a surprise. His voice was very familiar to me because I listen to it often. Em is Honey, the most elusive and beloved singer ever! Honey releases albums regularly but never gives concerts or interviews. Pictures of Honey are always from back; face, age, and gender are not known. The voice is not clearly that of a man nor of a woman, but it has characteristics of both. The mystery of Honey’s voice is enchanting. And the answer to Honey’s mystery was standing on the stage. I understood that Em/Honey has that most rare of voices: he is a countertenor. For awhile I forgot why we were there, forgot my fear of losing the challenge, forgot the challenge altogether. I listened as rapt as every other person in the room.

But then Em ended his performance, and I came back to the present. It was my turn. While the applause for Em’s show raged through the room, the table and the chair I had requested for my performance were brought to the stage. Everything was set. It was my turn.

For my show, the stage was well lighted. One spotlight was directed to the middle of the little round table, and the band played softly for background music. I walked to the table trying to project as much as I could of the shy young man I once was. I was dressed very neutrally in black pants and black T-shirt, and I had combed my hair down onto my forehead to give me a more boyish look. In my hand I carried a drink – a very colorful drink: the liquid was translucent red, green, and blue; it was filled with lots of crystal clear ice; and it was topped by a little turquoise umbrella. 

I put the drink on the table where it sparkled in the spotlight. I looked around as though I was trying to find someone in the crowd. Then I sat down on the chair and put my hands on the table. First, I sat there fidgeting with my fingers. Then I looked at my watch and started to squirm in the chair. I looked around again and checked the time a few more times. I drummed on the table with my fingers: still my expected date did not arrive. I took a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from my pocket. I dropped the lighter from my clumsy fingers to the floor. I dived after it and made a show of fumbling around to find it. When I found it and was again in an upright position my face was nicely red, giving the impression of a very embarrassed young man. I let the cigarettes and the lighter fall from my hands onto the table and sat there staring morosely at the table top.

Then I took a sip of the drink. Or tried to, but the umbrella poked me to the nose. At that I got the first snorts of laughter from the audience. I looked around me, a veritable portrait of an embarrassed young man. After hesitating for a second or two, I fished the umbrella out of the glass and tried to drink again. This time I was hindered by the ice cubes as they escaped the glass and tumbled into my face. I put the glass back on the table and stared at it as though it had suddenly grown a set of teeth and bit me... The crowd really started to snigger. I took the umbrella in my fingers and played with it. I made a study of : how to close it, how to open it, how to spin it in my fingers. Then I put it back on the table.

I checked the time again and tried to look slightly desperate. Then I took the pack of cigarettes and tried to shake out just one cigarette, and all the cigarettes dropped out. The audience giggled. I tried to put the cigarettes back to try to hide the evidence of my latest mishap as quickly as I could, which only made it more difficult to achieve. At last I succeeded… a little too well. All the cigarettes were back in the packet again. I looked around once more. The audience was still giggling. Then I took a deep breath and finally succeeded in shaking just one cigarette out of the packet. I let myself show a little self satisfied grin. Then I took the lighter and couldn’t get it to work…

The audience was laughing openly at my blundering with the lighter. My hands were shaking when I at last got it to flame, and I succeeded in lighting my cigarette. I put it between my lips, leaned back in my chair, and inhaled the relaxing smoke… At the same time my other hand was on the table still holding the lighter. The flame hadn’t gone out…and I set fire to the umbrella…

As the umbrella went up in flames, the cigarette flew from my hand to the floor. Quickly, I snatched the umbrella and tried to douse it in my drink… but the drink went up in flames too. I jumped up from my chair so quickly that it tipped over with a loud clatter. My high-pitched scream added to the noise. The drink was burning on the table, and every pair of eyes in the room watched it flame. Then Daphne dressed as a waitress came onstage and put a plate over the glass. After a little pause for the effect, Daphne said, “Sir, we have to ask you to leave. Now, please.” She grabbed my elbow and dragged me offstage while I made a show of babbling something in her ear.

For a moment the room was quiet, then the audience broke in the gales of laughter. Daphne and I went back onstage, and the applause was loud and long. Em came from backstage still dressed in the red dress and hugged me and Daphne.

“You were phenomenal, Beam! Fabulous! Awesome! Oh, and Daphne, my little doll, you were very good too!” Em kissed me and Daphne both on the cheek leaving red “kiss” marks in his wake. We could only laugh. Em’s enthusiastic attitude was contagious.

“Thanks, Em. Now what?”

“The vote! It’s about to start any second now!”

So it did. Daphne left to continue with her duties, and Em and I went to my table to wait for the results of the vote. There was a device for voting on every table, and a screen on the stage showed the count. I naturally voted for myself…

The first vote to show on the screen went to the challenge column. So did the second. But then the guest column started to get votes too. I knew I sat on a normal chair, but it felt like a nest of ants. By the way, how do I know what a nest of ants feels like? It didn’t take long which was very good for my nails: in just a few minutes I had managed to mangle a few of them. Em kept glancing at me every time his votes went higher than mine, and I glanced at him when mine passed his. The vote was frighteningly even.

At last the final result was posted. With 15 votes to Em’s 14, I had won by only one vote! Only one vote… My gut clenched at the thought of how close I had come to losing. But it didn’t matter because... I won! Control was back in my hands right where it belonged. I felt incredible. A rush of pure energy flooded my veins. My senses sharpened, and I felt invincible. I wanted to laugh and cry, to hug everybody and be hugged, to dance and let myself fall on my ass. I was brimming with feeling good. Em and I stood up to thank the audience for the vote.

“Well, Em. It seems that we are going to play by my rules tonight.” 

“Umm, that seems right, yes.” 

There was something a bit off in Em’s eyes and in his voice too. Anxiousness. A little fear as well. 

“Hmm, Em. You make a splendid woman, but I have this rule to never fuck a woman, so go and change into something more masculine, OK!” I slapped him gently on his velvet covered ass and gave him a naughty grin.

“Yes, sir!” He saluted smartly, and some of the anxiety disappeared from his eyes. “We are supposed to watch the other shows…”

“Yes, I know. You told me. So I think I will take this opportunity to have a drink with a very beautiful woman for a change… please have a seat, and you change later. I think I will order you Cosmopolitan. It will go nicely with my old fashioned butch drink. A Cosmopolitan is as old fashioned a drink and was very much favored by ladies, you know.” I smiled at him mischievously.

“A little role play for starters? You’re sweet, luv.” Em giggled in very lady-like way. 

During the rest of the show, we continued to role play. I tried to behave like the men in the ancient movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, while Em played the part of a 20th century lady with the skill of an actor. Every word we said was a double entendre. My every glance was an invitation. His words said no when his glances told another story. I touched his fingers whenever I could, and he let the touch linger just a little bit too long. Our role playing helped us to pass the time while we watched the other challenges play out. And actually, we both had fun with our innuendoes. As soon as the challenges were finished, I stood up, then helped him up as a gentleman of the 20th century would have done. Then I led my “lady” to his room.

Em had sung beautifully on the stage, but I enjoyed his voice even more when he begged me to fuck him harder… when he screamed as he came… when he sighed my name in satisfaction… when his voice became coarse from screaming…

We fucked the night away. After a couple of hours of sleep, I woke to the call of nature. I found the suitcase I had packed for the night beside the bathroom door. When did it materialize there? I took care of business and decided that I had slept enough. I took a shower and shaved. I dressed and stepped out of the bathroom to a divine aroma of fresh coffee.

“Good morning, Beam. Would you have breakfast with me?” Em’s voice was hesitating, his demeanor unsure.

“Good morning, Em. I would love to! Coffee is a weakness of mine.” I smiled at Em gently trying to ease his insecurities. I pulled him into my arms and kissed him. His anxiety melted with that kiss. We had an unhurried breakfast, and then it was time for me to leave. We parted hoping to meet again.

I had just checked out at the reception desk when I saw J approaching. 

“Good morning, B. So you won your challenge last night. Satisfied with your visit?”

“Good morning, J. This has been an interesting night. You have a satisfied customer, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, B. We were pretty sure you would like it here.”

“The night certainly was like nothing I have experienced before. Half the night I was anxious enough to want to escape, but when the challenge was won at last, I felt charged with energy like never before. I’m afraid Em will have a very sore ass for awhile…”

“For some reason I think he isn’t too sorry about that, B!” J chuckled. “When I saw him a moment ago, he was smiling from ear to ear. But I have to say that he seemed a bit stiff as he walked.”

“Thank you for the experience, J. The Challenge is quite a place. I’m not sure what I would be thinking if I had lost, but as it is, it really was a night to remember with pleasure.” 

“You are welcome to come again any time.” J smiled his megawatt smile. “Have a nice day, B.”

“You too, J.”

“Todd here will escort you to the flyer. Have a safe flight home, B. Bye.”


The flight was short, and soon I was back in my own life. But the night at The Challenge haunted my thoughts often after my visit, and I didn’t forget Em. I didn’t forget the excitement of winning the challenge. I wanted to go back, but the possibility of losing a challenge frightened me. But something kept nagging me. The other guys in the flyer when I was brought home talked about their night at The Challenge. They all claimed to be tops. Not one of them had won the challenge that night, but they all seemed to be in a good mood. And all of them were anxious to get back!