The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

Going Tae Hell for Your Sins

Glasgow, 1992

Lillian insisted he took 'E'. "It will help," she said. "Make you love everyone." She pressed the pill on him.

"I know what it does," Kippy said, scowling at her. Sometimes, she wore the air of all worldly sophistication too heavily. He had, after all, grown up in a town where underage drinking, drug smuggling, and low-level illegality was the norm.

Despite this, he had never taken ecstasy. Dod had offered it a few times, and he'd refused. He knew about the joyful trance state of it, and he was afraid. If he took it, what might he say to Dod? He'd lay bare his naked soul.

Ecstasy had been Lillian's second suggestion. Her first had been that he took himself to Queen's Park. Glasgow's south side green space was well known as a gay hangout, and by hang-out, they meant shag-out. You stood there at dusk, a man approached, and you tipped him the nod. Seconds later, you were hidden behind a bush, or a tree and the man's cock was up your arse or in your mouth. (Or vice versa.)

After she had put forward suggestion number one, Lillian had watched his face, her eyes sweeping from his forehead to his chin and back up again. He vacillated between excitement and terror, and in the end terror won.

"Not Queen's Park, then," she said, and he gave thanks to whatever higher power made Lillian so intuitive. "We'll go to Delmonica's in the city centre. I'll be your beard!"

The latter was uttered dramatically. She swept the scarf she was wearing over her shoulder and let out a puff of air.

He couldn't help himself. "Talkin' of beards, you need to do something about your 'tache."

She squealed at that. "Bitch." But the next time he saw her, the traces of dark hair above her top lip were gone.

"Do I look okay?" he asked, standing before her. They were both in his room, passing a bottle of vodka watered down with lemonade back and forth.

Lillian was wearing a dinner jacket over suit trousers—a cast-off from her brother. She wore the jacket with nothing underneath, and she looked absurdly sexy, her short hair gelled in spikes and her make-up minimal. Perhaps she hoped to be mistaken for a boy. He was almost tempted himself.

She leant back on her elbows so she could look at him properly. "No," she shook her head. "The jeans and a white tee shirt are great, but I feel you've done that to death now. Let's make things more obvious, shall we?"

She stood up and opened the drawers, smirking at him when she saw the porn mag stashed there. His blush was only minimal. Such discoveries weren't unexpected anymore, surely.

"This," she said, holding up a vest he'd brought with him for the winter.

When he protested, she told him to be quiet and take his tee shirt off. The vest moulded itself to every contour of his torso, including those new muscles. The dragon tattoo peeked out the top. She took the belt off his jeans too, so they gaped at the top. Someone would be able to slide a hand down there easily, Lillian proving the point by demonstrating it herself.

She opened her handbag and pulled out face powder, eyeliner and mascara.

"No fucking way." Kippy backed off, his hands held in front of him. Imagine if those apprentice acquaintances from his former life could see him now. Once upon a time, he had let his cousin make him up when she practised for the job she wanted. That seemed too long ago, now. A part of his past he squirmed about.

Lillian rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You will look sublime, darling. I'll be subtle."

She was as good as her word. The make-up Katrina used to apply had been plastered on him. Lillian spent ages feathering, padding and brushing, but the effect was so that he looked terrific without an observer being able to say for sure that he had make-up on. She had lined his eyes, put on mascara, powdered his nose and added bronzer. The bronzer sharpened his already pronounced cheekbones, and the mascara made his eyes look huge.