Inside, music played quietly in the background, and behind a long table, two men poured Prosecco into glasses.
I blinked. “Somehow I didn’t expect to see drag queens in the audience.” She was dressed as a nun, but with a very large, elaborate headdress. As we approached, she handed out what looked like programmes.
Stefan chuckled. “That is one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. They’re a charity, and they do a lot of good work.” He pointed to the table. “Would you like a glass?”
“Please.”
One of the Sisters beamed when she spotted Stefan, and kissed him on both cheeks. “It’s been too long. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Stefan gestured to me. “This is Kieran, who’s visiting from the UK.”
“Welcome, Kieran.” She smiled, then handed me a programme. She glanced at Stefan. “Darling, you have such good taste in men.”
I knew my cheeks had to be pink.
Then I realised Stefan hadn’t been kidding. I was being stared at, not to mention whispered about.
I checked my clothing.
Stefan leaned in. “Relax. You look incredible. That’s why they can’t take their eyes off you.”
I took refuge in the programme. On the cover was a black and white photo of the musicians, and one glance at the pieces had me smiling.
“This programme is fantastic.” There were piano pieces, a cello, a harpsichord… Then I saw the opening piece, and I laughed. “The Imperial March from Star Wars—on a church organ?” I couldn’t wait. “Where are we sitting?”
Stefan led me along the aisle to the front, where a curved row of chairs had been set out in front of the pews. He nodded to the right. “We’re at that end.”
I got a better look at the men around us. They wore varying styles of leather, and as he’d said, there were all shapes and sizes.
“What are the sashes I keep seeing?”
“Leather competitions.”
I blinked. “That’s a thing?”
He nodded. “I’ve already seen Mr. France Leather, Mr. Spain... There are people here from all over Europe.”
We took our seats next to a good-looking dark-haired man and his partner, who were speaking quietly in Spanish. They greeted us with warm smiles.
“Stefan!” A handsome black man dressed from head to toe in leather walked towards us from backstage, beaming.
Stefan rose. “Hey.” They exchanged kisses. Stefan touched my arm and introduced me. The guy turned out to be Tyrone, and he and his husband were the organisers of the concert.
“Kieran is a musician,” Stefan told him. “A pianist.”
Tyrone’s eyes lit up. “Ooh.”
I laughed. “I know what just went through your mind.”
He grinned. “Hey, I’m always thinking a year ahead. At least consider it. And if you decide to be a part of this, Stefan knows how to get in touch with me.”
“I’ll consider it.” I meant it.
“Thanks. Enjoy tonight.” And with that, he got onto the stage and addressed the audience.
Classical music—surrounded by men in leather.
I didn’t see this coming.