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"so you're the one with the queen virgin?" proofread by @CalmYourGayAssDown
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"415, 415," Fiona repeated, sitting on the edge of the front seat as I drove slowly. She was reading the house addresses, but in the dark night, it was hard to make out the numbers. West Blvd. was a nice neighborhood, at least when it was compared to a neighborhood such as mine or Fiona's. Two sets of train tracks bordered each end of the street. It was the metra, a passenger train that ran through the Chicagoan suburbs.
"Here it is," Fiona pointed. It was a brown, brick house that sat a little farther back from the street than it's neighbors. The windows were covered with thick drapes, making it hard to see whether the lights were on.
I looked down at the paper in my hand, studying the small symbol. It looked like something out of my grandmother's piano books.
"Are you sure? It doesn't look like anyone is home," I peered back at the house, lowering my head so I got a better angle. There weren't any cars in the driveway. I rolled down the window to see if we could hear any music, but only the sound of the wind came through.
"Number 415, look it says it right on the mailbox," she used her fingers to tilt my head towards the little box. "Land ho."
I pulled a little farther down the street to park, just in case 'George' had given me a prank invitation--if that was even his name. We stepped out quietly and hurried across the lawn.
"What do we do?" I questioned, climbing up the steps to the porch. "The doorbell is broken."
"Just knock... but do it softly." She advised, making me chuckle. I tried to look through one of the windows, for any sign of life, but found none.
I stepped in front of the door, glancing at Fiona only to catch her already eyeing me. I looked back at the door, smiling, and reached forward.
My knuckles didn't hit the wood before the door was being opened. It was a tall man, face painted in drag while he wore a tight red dress. He grabbed our hands and pulled us through the door, closing it just as fast as he had opened it.
"How are you two flowers doin' tonight? Lookin to get freaky?" He husked, towering over both me and Fiona. He leaned himself against the wall and held his hand out as Fiona and I looked around in confusion.
It was very dark, the only light coming from a lone hanging bulb that swung under its ceiling fan. There were boxes piled against the corners, and clear sheets thrown over old furniture. The house was beautiful, but so empty.
Fiona took a step closer to me.
"Honey," he caught my attention, opening and closing his outstretched hand. "I need to see your invitation."
I grabbed the small paper out of my pocket and handed it to him. His sultry smirk grew as he unfurled it, looking over the sloppy handwriting.
"Good, good. It's nice to see some new faces every once in a while. You didn't park in the driveway, did you?"
