It Was The Dress That Did It

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It's the dress that did it.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm really kinky about it or anything - it's just that there's something about a man in women's clothing. Yeah, I know, but believe me, it's amazing how many blokes you meet feel exactly the same way. It's this... well, this 'interest' in men in frocks that's often got me into serious trouble. Not, "Oh my god, I've been arrested" trouble; more like, "I've got a big crush and have no idea how to deal with it" trouble.

I got to Wellington and met the other hobbits. Couldn't believe my luck - still can't, they're brilliant! Billy especially. What a fucking great guy! And Elijah, when he isn't being a prat, is lovely. Just lovely. Sean, well, Sean's the butt of loads of laughs; I do the best Astin impersonation. There's Orlando as well, our resident elf, he's a scream. At first he was a bit shy and diffident, but we began to spend more time together and, well, I love being with him, it's so much fun when he's around. In fact, everyone is great: Bean, who's really dry and funny; Ian, who tells the maddest, most outrageous stories; John, who's completely eccentric and the most amazing raconteur.

A couple of weeks into it, we were all hanging out in the evenings and generally spending every minute in each others' company. It was time to get sorted with costume and stuff, so we were told we were being taken to WETA for the grand tour and to get started on fittings and make-up tests.

When we got there, it turned out that Richard Taylor, who's head of the whole thing, had been called off-site. So they decided to start the fittings first, as it's this Richard guy who's going to be doing the tour. Anyway, the morning's been spent having casts made of our feet and being measured for armour. Now, being measured for anything is a bind: boring and awkward. But being measured by a man wearing a Laura Ashley paisley patterned frock, well, that's positively surreal.

It turns out that WETA have a thing called a frock day, when all employees - at least the male employees - have to come to work in a dress. I looked over at one of the women seated on the far side of the workshop, admiring her nicely pert buttocks encased in well-worn, thoroughly comfy looking jeans: definitely just the men, then.

It was at this point, with me half naked, being manhandled by various people, that Richard Taylor wandered in dressed in what would be called a homely garment on anyone, let alone a man of his stature. It's got ruffles and a blue floral print. Not 'fuck-off Elijah eyes' blue; not 'ooohhh, look! Isn't that sky amazing' blue; not 'New Zealand surfing seas' blue. Just a rather nice, calm, granny blue. I find that I'm staring at him with my mouth open. I shut my mouth with a snap.

Richard strides towards me, arm extended, hand waggling at the end, palm out expectantly. I look down at his hand. I look up at Richard. I look down at his hand again. Richard laughs.

"Dominic! Fantastic!" He's grinning at me like a loon. A rather scary loon, but a loon nonetheless. I find myself grinning back at him. "How's it goin', eh?" Richard steps away from me and gives me a critical once over. He ums and ahs, and mutters and chatters to his colleagues. Everyone's waiting for his pronouncement. "Well." He looks around at them all and smiles a huge, beaming smile. "I think this is going to work very well." Almost as one, the entire room breaths out.

The tour is fascinating, I hadn't realised how much of the look of Middle Earth WETA is going to be responsible for. We see loads of brilliant stuff: weapons, armour, models, masks. I really feel that I'm part of something huge here. And Richard is amazing. Unbelievably enthusiastic about everything, from the miniatures they're building - or bigatures as they call them - down to the tiniest details of design.

So then Richard starts to give this big talk about swords and armour and stuff. He's well into it. His arms are waving around; this legs are trotting backwards and forwards; his glasses are glittering under the fluorescent lights.

I'm gaping at him. Well, gaping at his knees. It's the way they looked so vulnerable beneath the floral print skirt. I'm trying my hardest not to stare, not to gaze limpidly at those gorgeously knobbly knees. I can feel a stirring in my crotch, and realise that I'm going to have to deal with that particular problem pretty damn sharpish if I'm going to avoid making a complete fool of myself.

I look around the room and see that Elijah is staring at the growing bulge in my trousers. I swallow and look away. Then I look back again. Elijah's smirking quite brazenly at me now. I can feel my face begin to burn. Fuck. I have to get out of here, have to get to the toilet. I begin to mumble some excuse and shuffle towards the door.

Richard catches sight of me, stops his impassioned discourse on the weaponry of Middle Earth and blinks at me through huge lenses. "Y'okay, Dom?"

The entire room turns to look at me. I catch a brief flash of gappy teeth to my right and fight the urge to wipe the smirk off Elijah's face.

"Er... no. I mean, yeah. Just, gotta, you know, take a piss. Sorry. Be right back!"

An hour later I'm hunched over my plate in the cafeteria, picking at salad and wishing I were anywhere but here. The bench dips slightly and I know, without having to look, who's just sat down.

"So, Dom." Elijah settles his plate on the table next to me and taps his knife against the side with a chink. "Interesting today, huh?" I look at Elijah as he stuffs burger and chips into his mouth, his lips still managing to somehow maintain a small, smug half-smile as he masticates loudly.

"Yeah, really interesting. It's important to know about the weapons and stuff, you know, so that we can really get our heads around the idea of being soldiers." I stop eating, settle back in my chair and shift to face him. "In the end, and I've been thinking about this a lot lately, both Merry and Pippin end up as soldiers. Merry especially, so I feel that I want to bond with my weapon, really get into..."

Then Elijah begins to choke on a chip.

"Heimlich Manoeuvre!" Orlando bounds over to Elijah and is pulling him up. I'm suddenly aware that I'm gaping like a wet fish and doing fuck all to help. So I scramble out of my chair and reach Elijah in time to stop Orlando from breaking any ribs. The chip is expelled and Elijah slumps into his seat, eyes watering, breathing ragged and strained.

"Fucker." Elijah's glaring at me now. Cheeks flushed an angry scarlet.

"What?" I'm confused. It's not as if I'd done anything. It was Elijah who'd been winding me up all afternoon, going on about "Dick this" and "Dick that." And giving me the most lascivious smirks imaginable. So, if he choked to death then, quite frankly, it'd be his own bloody fault.

By six o'clock I'm completely knackered and just want to lower myself into a hot bath and then crawl into bed. It's not that it's been that long a day, just that my head's spinning and I'm feeling so nauseous I'm not sure I'll make it home without throwing up. One thing I do know, though, is that I'm gonna have to work hard to shut that giggling imbecile up before he has the rest of the gang torturing me over the whole Richard thing.

I'm thinking I could really do without this complication in my life.

The next day is a total nightmare. Elijah's obviously given everyone all the gory details, and they're ready for me when I arrived at sword training.

Billy's all perky and smug. "Hey Dom. How's it going?"

"Fine," I say, "how about you?"

"Oh, just grand, thanks. We missed you last night. Whatcha get up to?" Smug git. He's trying to keep a straight face but I can see he's just toying with me. So I'm waiting for the punch line, waiting to see what the gag's gonna be.

"Not much," I reply. "Just felt like an early night, is all."

Then Sean and Elijah look at each other and begin to giggle. So I ignore them and carry on the conversation with Billy as if I'm completely oblivious to the sniggering going in the background. "Did I miss anything exciting?"

"Not really, just went for dinner and stuff. Chatted, gossiped a little. You know, the usual." The last said with what can only be called a leer. "So," and he's looking directly at me, smirk splashed across his face, "you wanna come shopping later?"

"Maybe," I say, wondering what's coming. "You got anything you need to get?"

He's really giggling now, "Well, I've seen this really nice cocktail dress that I was..."

I don't give him a chance to finish. Fuck them, that's what I think. How would they like it? I know I should just go along with the joke, but I feel a right pillock about the whole thing and to be honest, I think it's caused my sense of humour to go walkabout. So I just snarl "Fuck off!" at him, and stomp out of the room. God knows what Bob's gonna think.

Elijah catches up with me later that evening. "Hey, Dom."

"Fuck off. If you're going to make any more snide comments, you can just go fuck yourself."

I walk off, but he's following, calling out after me. "No, Dom. Wait. I want to apologise. Please."

I stop and turn to face him. I think how young he looks, with his tatty plimsolls and his Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt and somehow I find that I can't be really mad at him. Then he comes to stand very close to me and mumbles, "I didn't mean it, Dom. Really. I just... I just don't understand the attraction." He chews at the quick of his thumbnail as if it'll give him some sustenance.

"It's okay," I find myself replying. "I know it's weird, I'm not sure what it is about him. I just wish you'd not give me a hard time about it. It's embarrassing enough as it is." I shrug and reach out to take his hand away from his mouth. "I'll forgive you. Now are you going to stop being a prick?"

"I'll think about it." He's smiling at me.

"Why have you never had you teeth fixed?"

"What kind of a weird question is that?" He looks a bit worried. "Do you hate my teeth?"

I shake my head, "No! Not at all. I love your teeth, just... you know... it's unusual. That's all."

"Okay. Well, my Mom doesn't approve of children being made to straighten their teeth just to appease Hollywood ideas of beauty."

"She sounds like a very sensible mother."

"Yeah, she is. She's cool."

Then we both realise that we've been looking at each other for too long and laugh. "Well, I better be going. I'm having dinner with Orlando and need to be in full possession of my wits. You never know what trouble he's gonna try and get us into!"

Elijah's smiling at me, "Well, have fun. See you tomorrow."

Over the next few days the teasing eases off. I'm relieved that I'm managing to avoid being caught acting like a prat when Richard is around. It's not so bad now he's out of the dress, but to be honest, I find I still get hot under the collar when he's anywhere near me. All I can think is that it wasn't just the frock.

The thing is, the more time I spend with Richard, the more I like him as a person, not just a sex object. And believe me, he is very much a sex object. So much so that I spend nearly every night lying in my bed jerking off to images of Richard. Richard being all intense and geeky. Richard laughing at some dreadful joke he's made. Richard getting all excited when he sees some amazing model emerging from a chunk of polystyrene. Best of all though, Richard in a dress, twirling for his admiring audience, knees glowing in the afternoon light, sunshine glinting off his glasses. It's this one that makes me come like a steam train.

My crush has become something far more disturbing. I think I'm in love.

It's doing my head in. It's like I can't get on with my life without fretting and worrying about what he thinks of me. Everything he does for me, every word he says, I look for hidden meanings. Sometimes I know that I'm acting really weird and catch him looking at me with this odd expression on his face. Then I go into hyper-mode trying to throw him off the scent. He must think I'm a total nutter.

I'm sitting in Elijah's room. Since our little spat we've been spending more time together. I've discovered that he's funny and sweet and fantastic company. I have a right laugh when I'm with him.

We're just kicking back, swigging a few cans of beer, and suddenly he turn to me and says, "Dom, can I ask you something personal?" I know something's up because he's gone all serious.

"Yeah, course," I reply, putting my can down and turning to face him.

He looks a bit embarrassed, but carries on anyway, "Well, erm... Dom, are you gay?"

I'm gobsmacked, really I am, because that's the last thing I expect him to ask. "No," I reply, "I'm not. At least, not really. Why?" I realise he's blushing and find myself thinking how endearing that is.

"Well," he's shifting about in his seat now, avoiding eye contact with me, "I just wondered, 'cos, well, you know, the whole Richard thing. Not that I think there's anything wrong if you are. Just, well, I was curious. That's all."

"Well, I might be, but I'm not sure. I mean, I like girls but, sometimes I like guys, you know?"

He nods and carries on drinking.

So, we just sit quietly for a while trying to avoid commenting on the tension that's seeped into the room. I look over at him and he's staring at me. Then he starts to giggle, which makes me giggle. Here we are, giggling hysterically about nothing and I think how it's stuff like this that makes me like him so much.

A couple of days later about fifteen of us - cast, crew, techies - end up in the local karaoke bar. It's Friday, so no-one has to get up the next morning. Cue a brilliant excuse for getting completely wasted.

Somehow I end up squeezed onto a bench next to Richard who is being cajoled into putting his name down for a song.

I try snappy, witty conversation with him. "Which one you gonna do?"

"Now that would be telling!" He beams at me and I know that I'm blushing. Luckily the lighting hides most of my embarrassment. At least I hope it does.

"So, what are you going to sing, Dom?"

"Me? Well, haven't really though about it, to be honest."

"How about a duet!" Richard leans in conspiratorially. "You could sing with young Elijah over there. I think he'd like to have a go, but feels a bit overwhelmed by this array of talent."

I glance over to where Elijah is deep in rather tipsy conversation with Orlando. Orlando has his arm draped around Elijah's shoulders and is whispering into his ear. I feel a sharp pain in my gut. Too much beer. "Gotta take a piss, Richard, be back in a mo."

I get back to my seat to find the entire table is smirking at me. "What?" I fix on Elijah's gaze and he wrinkles his nose at me and giggles. "What did you do?" I ask, turning to Richard.

Richard just grins. "It'll be fun, Dom." He pats my hand and I feel my jeans tighten. Shit. Not here, not now, please. Then the tall red-head at the mike finishes her song with a flourish and I hear the compare introducing the next singer.

"Thank you, Louise!!" The room breaks into a hearty round of applause. "Now, we have a duet! Marvellous!" I begin to get a bad feeling and look over at Elijah, who is already half out of his seat. "We have, singing 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough', Dom and Elijah!!!!" The entire rooms bursts into catcalls and clapping. I feel firm hands pushing me up out of my seat. Then Elijah has hold of my hand and I'm being dragged towards the stage.

"Hang on! No! Lij!" I try to protest but am drowned out by the noise of everyone yelling. I wonder how drunk Elijah is: very, by the look of him. It's now I realise that I am onstage in front of about 100 people about to make a complete prat of myself. Oh God.

The intro to the song begins and a microphone's thrust into my hands. Elijah wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. I can feel his hipbone jutting against mine, and am suddenly aware of every inch of him that's touching me.

I so need to get laid.

Before I have a chance to think twice, I'm singing at the top of my voice. At least they picked something I know and, although we're not the Supremes, we're doing a pretty good job of the song. In fact, Elijah's voice is something of a surprise. It's not as squeaky as it usually sounds when he's singing along to his CDs. I'm actually having fun and, apart from the remnants of a hard-on which is diminishing pretty quickly, I feel really comfortable and happy.

Richard laughs and claps me on the shoulder as I squeeze past him on the way back to my seat. "Brilliant! I never knew you had it in you, Dom." I'm smiling and blissed out from his proximity, trying not to act like a love-struck fool. "Me next, I think." He winks at me as his name is announced followed by the name of his chosen song. "Yes, now we have Richard, to sing us... er...well, this should be entertaining!" The compare is laughing and waving a sheet of paper around. "Stand By Your Man! Put your hands together for Richard!!" The bar erupts. I stare at Richard as he makes his way to the stage, hands aloft like a prize-fighter, laughing and winking at everyone as they cheer and catcall.

Richard's performance is a thing of beauty. Every action; every nuance he can milk out of the song makes the entire bar moan and swoon in delight. I know it should be slapstick, but somehow Richard manages to inject a sincerity into it that makes it something else. Something quite beautiful in a strange way. When the song ends, the place erupts. The audience is on its feet cheering and stamping for an encore. Richard bows and waves them off, working his way back through the jostling crowd to his seat.

"That was brilliant!" I feel breathless and giddy. I pull Richard into a tight hug and then I feel him tense up as he realises what had escaped my notice in the excitement. I pull away and stutter, "Oh! Sorry... so sorry." I feel my face burn and Richard pats me gently on the shoulder and leans in to say, "It's okay, Dom. Happens to us all. Don't worry, really." But I know that I've embarrassed both him and myself and want the floor to open up and swallow me. When I turn away, Elijah is looking at me, and I'm surprised to see that his brows are knitted together in concentration and that, when he finally raises his eyes to mine, he smiles sympathetically, dipping his head to one side.

When we finally pile out of the bar, I find myself being dragged in the direction of Richard's car. "I'm taking you home, Dom." Richard is shouting, or maybe it's just the normal way he speaks, just that it seems like shouting at this time of night.

Elijah has hold of my hand and is swinging my arm in an annoying manner. I yank at him, making him yelp in protest. "Dom! That hurt." I laugh loudly and manically at him when he pouts.

"Now, stop that, children." Richard unlocks the door and pushes us into the back. The front passenger seat is taken up by Orlando, who twists around to stare at me and Lij squirming and giggling in the back seat.

Orlando wags his finger at us and puts on a stern schoolteacherish voice, which would work a lot better if he wasn't so pissed. "Now, you two children behave, you hear?" Elijah is giggling against my shoulder. I can feel the heat from his body burning into me. The jolt of the moving car knocks us even closer together.

I glance at Richard who is looking at me in the rear-view mirror, a small half-smile on his face. I make somewhat bleary eye contact with him and he smiles a wider, toothy smile. "How're you doing back there?"

"Fine, just a bit tipsy, that's all. Mind you, not as drunk as this one here." I pet Elijah on the head and he nestles into me, almost purring. I watch Orlando, a flash of white teeth in the dark of the car, turn back to face the road.

Richard negotiates a sharp turn onto a side-street. "Good. Be there soon, dropping you off first, Dom." I nod in reply, settling back in my seat and closing my eyes.

It's only when I wake up to the feel of cold air entering the car that I realise I've nodded off. Richard is prodding me and whispering loudly, "Come on! We're here. Leave sleeping beauty in the back, I'll make sure he gets home." I manage to get myself out of Elijah's embrace and am pulled out of the car. I hear Elijah whimper softly as the car door closes firmly behind me.

I'm sitting on a wall outside the soundstage; inside they're wrapping up rehearsals for the day. We've been working on hobbit stuff, moving with the feet, practicing the hobbit walk and posture. I'm sitting quietly for a while before I head off to get changed. Might as well wait for the others.

I'm staring at my hobbit feet, trying - unsuccessfully, of course - to flex my hobbit toes, when I hear footsteps coming toward me across the tarmac. Looking up, I see Richard, head bowed and looking very determined, heading my way. I gulp and try not to shake with nerves. No reason to feel nervous, I tell myself, it's just Richard. Richard, who has filled my fantasies for the last few months; made me feel things I had hardly suspected I was capable of feeling; made me question everything I've ever thought about my sexuality. Just Richard.

I feel like I'm waiting for the end of the world. Then I realise that I'm thinking like a drama queen and plaster a nice, innocuous smile on my face.

Richard stops directly in front of me. "Dom," he says, "can we have a quick chat?"

I nod and try to keep the smile in place. I know that I'm not really managing it very well. Shit. "Sure, anything in particular you want to talk to me about?" I ask.

"Well, yes. There is." I can feel his eyes on me and know that it must be serious for him to chase me down like this. I also have a pretty good idea what it's about. It turns out that I'm right on both counts. "You know, Dom, I'm really very fond of you."

Here it comes, the brush off, the "sorry, but I'm really not interested."

I realise that this is actually very hard for him. That he's finding it difficult to get the words out. I decide to be a grown-up for once and take responsibility. "It's okay, Richard. I know what you're going to say, and I'm sorry I've been acting like a pillock. I don't know what's come over me," I tell him, "because I'm straight. Basically. Which is why this whole thing has been making me insane." I look up, and he's looking at me with the sweetest smile just touching the corners of his mouth.

"Dom. I'm very flattered that you feel this way about me. You know, there was a time in my life, when I was much, much younger and far braver than I am now, when I might have thought, 'what the hell!' But those days are long gone." He takes his glasses off and rubs grubby, paint covered fingers over his eyes. Putting them back on, he looks at me and continues, "I just wanted to get it out in the open so that we can be friends because, as I said, I really am very fond of you."

It's at this point that I realise this isn't hurting as much as I thought it would. I thought I'd be in pieces; maybe I will be later, but somehow I doubt it. I'm feeling relieved more than anything else. He's right. Getting it out in the open is the best thing for it, and I'm thinking what a lovely bloke he is and how I'm really lucky to have met him. So I smile, not an embarrassed, 'oops, fucked that one up' smile, but a 'yeah, you're right, I want you as a friend' smile. And suddenly everything's alright.

"Anyway," he continues, "once you can stop feeling like this about me, then you can get on with finding some nice, thrusty young thing to play with." He's grinning at me now, and I wonder if he knows something I don't.

Then my hand is on his arm and I'm pulling him towards me. "Richard, look, this is going to sound a bit weird." I know I'm stuttering but I really want to do this, want this just the once. "But... can I kiss you?"

Now he's blinking at me, brow furrowed and head tilted to one side. "You know, Dom, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Please," I say, "I'll never ask again. I just want to see what it's like." I'm holding my breath, looking at him, entreaty in my eyes.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, but I know is actually only a matter of seconds, he smiles. "Well, okay, just a peck."

I lean forward, open my mouth slightly and am about to touch my lips to his when he says, "No tongues, Dom." I pull back briefly and squint at him. Oh well, can't be helped. Then, I kiss him. My lips touch his very gently, and it's lovely. It's not a rolling around, hot and sweaty kiss. Not an open-mouthed 'oops! I can feel your tonsils' kiss. Not even a 'let's see if we like this' kiss. It's a chaste, sweet, friendly kiss. And that feel just fine. I'm surprised that it's me that breaks away first.

Richard looks at me and grins. "So, Dom, have you got that out of your system now?"

I nod in response and find that it's not a lie.

"Anyway, gotta get going! Lots to do. You get off now, and have a lovely evening." And he's off, long strides making fast work of the carpark, leaving me sitting on the wall with a stupid grin on my face. Funnily enough, I don't feel at all sad.

I can see the other hobbits emerging from the studio and wave to them as they trip towards me, still acclimatising to their hobbit feet. Elijah runs up to me and lands on my lap, laughing and breathless. "You okay, Dom?"

He feels light and cuddly and I wrap my arms around him. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna to be just fine."

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