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She said, as a throwawayremark, that the female staff always got better tips and maybe if I tookon a more nuanced look, I might do better.She suggested I wear a silk shirt like the girls did and with my blondhair almost reaching my shoulders, I could style it to look almostfeminine. Customers might just be confused enough to tip me better. Itall seemed a bit odd to me, but Miriam said she could get Jayne, a localstylist she knew, to pop in and help me before my shift started.So the next night I turned up an hour earlier. Jayne was a woman in herforties, but very attractive. She washed and blow-dried my hair and theninsisted on thinning my eyebrows a little. She ran her fingers over myface and commented on how smooth my skin was. The truth was that I didn'thave to shave every day as I had little facial hair, not much more than alight fuzz on my top lip. Because I was nervous about what was happeningshe dug in her handbag, popped a tablet out of it's foil pack and held itout to me."Er,. Kyle's cock rubbed against the silk bulge as both boys gyrated andmotioned in the rhythm of lust. Their kisses became stronger and harder,teeth began biting lips, fingers pinched nipples, hands cupped bareflesh."I - fucking - hate you - for doing this to me - You are - so - fucking -hot," Kyle moaned through gritted teeth as his breathing became heavy anddifficult. "I'm close." All dolled up and pretty?" Chris gripped his lover's solid cock andbegan to furiously pump the hard shaft. Precum oozed into his hands ashis own cock strained against its pantie prison."Pretending to be girls again?" Chris knew these triggers would have thedesired affect and Kyle groaned in response, as his cock ached in purepleasure. His hands were now pressed against the door, as he let Christake over, their eyes locked in the pure oblivion of confusion of thethoughts that raced through each mind. Everything and nothing all at once- nothing else mattered."Becoming sissies together?" Chris' words left his lips.
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. . rather used to this sort of thing." "I've got some nice customers," I said. I didn't want to keep talking about it, so I said, "I've got to go now. A lot of deliveries to make yet." She slid off the table. "I suppose I owe you a tip for . . . for delivering the groceries. Wait a minute." "You don't have to tip me," I said politely. "It's a service of the store that we are proud to provide to our steady customers." She was easier with the laughter this time. "You do provide service, I have to admit that," she said. "Wait a minute." I waited while she disappeared into the house, thinking that I knew the kitchens but rarely had I been invited into the rest of the house. Well, that was how I liked it; it don't do to get too easy with people you do a service for, like delivering groceries. She came back and handed me a five-dollar bill. I stood holding it. "That's too much," I said. She put her hand on the side of my head, brushing back the long hair there with a quick, warm.

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