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The Curse of a Thousand Words [NSFW]

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When a 29 year old Bee is about to give his best drag performance, he encounters a mysterious man, Viktor, who's had his eyes on Bee for quite a while. Even though Viktor is Bee's polar opposite - he's older, charming, and filthy rich - it doesn't prevent them from falling head over heels into an addictive romance that turns Bee's life upside down. However, loving Viktor doesn't come without any consequences; Bee's soul is in a constant battle with Viktor's venomous past and his seductive secrets. So what happens if Bee stops fighting? Will their fairytale crumble? Or, will their love just grow stronger? Tragic, erotic, and amusing, The curse of a Thousand Words, will embark you upon a journey of love and hate, self-discovery and self-destruction, and will definitely leave you craving for more.

Romance / Erotica
Z. Bleu
Age Rating:


Snake Bite was a typical gay bar conveniently located next to a students’ dorm. Jam-packed on the weekends, it was usually pretty vacant during the week. There was nothing special about it—the stench of fresh sweat and cigarettes always gave me a headache, and its nasty drinks, which were usually diluted with water to cut the cost, were only drinkable because drag queens got them for free. However, each week it would become our haven.

Mia was glued to the mirror, measuring the distance between her soon to be bushy eyebrows. She never explained why she enjoyed stripping off her femininity once in a while, but I was sure she couldn’t live without it. Her drag name instantly became our inside joke; sometimes, when Mia was too stressed about her studies, I’d jump around the room yelling Max Tension, Max Tension. It always made her giggle.

“I’m not sure I like your new wig, ” Mia commented while putting on her drag makeup, “fuck! These brows just won’t behave.”

“Me nether, this one's cheap,” I answered, pacing around the dressing room just to get used to walking in heels.

“Not only that. The red one was more like Nin. But... now you’re more doll-like, I guess.”

I had been struggling to come up with a drag name for weeks. Mia was the one who suggested the name, Nin. When asked why, she chuckled, “It’s just so you, babe. You always say, ‘Nothing, it’s nothing.’ Just put the first letters together and you have Nin.”

Later, I’ve added Summers to the name just because it was June. I’ve never been a creative man.

For today’s performance, we had prepared a wacky duet, a story of a middle-aged man who’s just discovered he’s into drag. Contrary to others’ beliefs, I didn’t know what I was doing; unlike Mia, I barely knew anything about the drag culture.

The air was oozing with excitement and I couldn’t deny it anymore; I was getting addicted to the attention. We still had an hour till our performance, so I left Mia without her even noticing me.

Stage lights bounced around the audience, exposing a sea of young queer faces: some were dancing, some kissing; others were chugging pints of watered-down booze, probably thinking they’ve made a good bargain. I floundered to the half-empty bar and sat down on a wooden bar stool; fixed my dress, making sure it wouldn’t crumple up.

“Same as always!” I shouted, trying to overpower the loud music.

I took a sip through the pink straw—carefully, trying not to ruin my lips—then another and one more. I could barely taste any alcohol; some things never change.

I scanned the crowd as if I was looking for something; a familiar face, perhaps. However, those who knew me, would never return.

And then I felt it; like a magnet pulling me through the crowd, there was an intense gaze inspecting me from one of the tables at the corner of the bar. When our eyes met, I was quite disappointed; he might have been a snack, but he wasn't a regular, or anyone I knew. Just an elegant man in a pitch-black suit that dramatically contrasted with the rainbow of colourful shirts and excessive drag garments.

The mysterious man said something, but his words were devoured by the loud beats. I shrugged. Did he really expect me to hear that? Only when he stood up and began marching towards me, I realized how tall he was.

Typically, I ’d be the first one to come up with a cheesy pick-up line, usually something drag related, but this time the man has spoken first.

“Could you repeat that?” I yelled.

He smiled and moved a bit closer, pretending to accidentally bump his leg into mine; a trick so overused, it felt inept.

“I said what’s your name?” repeated the man with a slight accent, looking at me way much longer than I was comfortable with.

“It’s Nin.”

“No, I meant your actual name,” he smirked and leaned a bit closer.

“I’m Bee.”

“I’ve never heard a name like that.”

Well, because it wasn’t my real name.

“Nice to meet you, Bee, I’m Viktor. With a ‘k’,” he explained, then added, “l love your wig.”


Viktor raised his hand to grab the bartender’s attention, exposing his lavish watch. I couldn’t catch what he ordered, so I fixed my eyes on the bartender struggling to open a brand new bottle of gin. Gin and tonic? His watch must have been fake.

“I saw your performance last week. Stunning.”

“You’re a regular here? I’m not sure I’ve seen you before.”

“At least twice a month. I’m probably not that attractive for someone like you to notice.”

Oh, what a player he was. Judging by his shoes, the watch, and a few wrinkles on his forehead, Viktor has been practising his outdated ways of seduction for years.

Out of the blue, I felt an obnoxious tap on my shoulder. It was Mia, now fully Max Tension both literally and figuratively, “Nin, what the hell? We’re next, hurry!”

Disoriented, I glanced at Viktor and smirked. He answered with a smile, took something out of his pocket and scribbled some numbers.

“Just in case you’ll need company,” he handed me a tiny card with a golden print on it; once again - a typical move, “It’s the hotel I’m staying at. Marvellous restaurant. I’ll be there tomorrow at seven.”

“Nin, c’mon...” Mia hissed impatiently.

We were about to give our best performance of the entire month, followed by cheers and laughs, and waves of applause. However, it wasn’t enough for me; what I craved for was unlimited attention.


Of course I didn’t call Viktor that day. Nor the following. I kept his card on the pile of unread psychology books, as any proud hunter would. “304” the card read. The messy handwriting was accompanied by a golden print "Cielus Hotel". Usually, I would get a phone number scribbled on a torn tissue; once, a guy handed me an empty champagne bottle with his number engraved on the glass. Till this day, I wondered how he accomplished that.

“Ready for work?” Mia asked, chunky textbook in her hands.

“I’ll quit this Friday,” I admitted, munching on the cereal.

“Bee, babe. We talked about this. You gotta pay the rent or I’ll have to find someone else. I’m sorry.”

Mia was right. I had been living here rent-free for years, doing odd jobs there and there. Little did she know, I had a plan to pay her back; Not just her, my family too.

“I have an interview at the ORK inc. today. It had to be a surprise, but I think I’ll really make it this time. I'll finally escape the rat race, Mia.”

She clapped her hands in excitement, “champagne’s on me!”

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