And so began the second week of Paul’s life as Anne. He quickly formed a routine that seemed to work. Every trip out was preceded by a close shave and fresh makeup. Consciously avoiding the restaurant where Jorge worked, trips out included the local shops, always buying obviously feminine things, and the local park. Anne avoided the beach, too touristy for one thing and she would look out of place unless she was skimpily clothed for another. Before starting work in the evening’s Anne liked to sit in the shade and quiet of the local park. She became quite well known.
In the bar, Anne continued to get used to life as a waitress. The flirting was fun; the being groped less so, but the other girls were nice and friendly and they were pleased she had chosen to stay. For a few days Paul really believed this could work.
Then Jorge came to the bar and waited for Anne after work. This was a moment Paul had been dreading.
‘So, Anne, you have stayed and yet I am the last to know? How do you think that makes me feel?’ said Jorge harshly.
‘I’m sorry Jorge, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but it is rather complicated.’
‘And I wouldn’t understand? What is his name?’
‘His name?’
‘The one about who you now feel so guilty.’
‘Oh gosh he thinks I have a boyfriend at home’ thought Paul. He grabbed at this straw.
‘He’s called Paul. I couldn’t do this too him, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
‘Well you have. Not all of us waiters are looking for casual sex, I thought you liked me.’
Paul felt ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’ He called out as Jorge walked off.
Still in her uniform Anne headed for home. Towards her came some of the drunken English lads from the bar. They had been very attentive asking her why she wouldn’t do what Linda did. (Linda was well known for sucking customers’ cocks to get big tips.)
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