Last Call

"Last call!" the bartender shouted to a mostly empty bar. Jon and Kelli exchanged a tired glance, their legs aching from running around the bar all night in their skimpy costumes. Busy wiping tables, Jon, particularly, felt worn down. He'd had a full day, with his motorbike ride in the country, his long walk back along the beach, and now working all night waiting tables. He wasn't complaining, though. It had been a successful night, lots of positive feedback from patrons. He couldn't wait to cash out and see what his tip tally was.

Once the last customers shuffled out the door a young man of about eighteen in Bermuda shorts and a tank-top, accompanied by a man in his forties wearing a miniskirt and satin blouse, Jon filled one last tray with empty glasses and returned to the bar.

“That’s the last of it,” he sighed. Kelli was resting on a stool a few feet away, sipping water through a straw, looking every bit as tired as Jon felt. Despite being a crossdresser, Jon’s roommate had impressed him with his hard work ethic. Maybe Jon needed to reevaluate his preconceived notions about men who wore women’s clothes. Sure, they made him feel uncomfortable, but maybe they deserved a little bit more of his respect.

He sank down onto a stool, taking Kelli’s lead, and sighed. Taking his weight off the high heels felt divine. Looking down, he took stock. It he had a couple messes on his blue teddy, usually from when it had been particularly difficult to find the shot glass in his customers pants (he was still confused as to how the liquid had shot out at him rather than staying in the glass), but his fishnet stockings had survived without one rip. With the amount of crawling around under tables that he had done, he considered that a bit of a miracle.

“You didn’t do too badly,” the bartender said, his head down as he counted out the cash for their tips, “I’ll take $80 each for your drinks, leaving each of you a cool hundred.”

He slid a one hundred dollar bill across the bar to each of them. Jon watched as Kelli took his and slid it into his top, a move that would have looked great on a woman who had cleavage, but since Kelli was as flat as Jon, it just reminded him of how uncomfortable he was around crossdressers.

Jon grabbed his own money and, for safe keeping, put it in the most obvious place for a man to carry his cash. Sliding into down the top of his teddy, between his pectoral muscles, he smiled. No thief would ever know he was so loaded. It’s was perfect.

“Thank-you, sir,” both Kelli and Jon said at the same time, each turning to the other and smirking.

“Now you’d better get home,” the bartender continued, “It’s late. Grab your stuff and head home. You can keep the outfits and bags. You two can be waitresses here anytime.”

Jon blushed at the compliment. He knew he’d turn the offer down, since he was in Girl World for vacation, not to get a job, but perhaps at the end of his time at the resort he could return and see if the offer still stood. Maybe island life could be in his future.

The pair popped into the back room, loaded their outfits into the duffel bags, Jon his leather ensemble, Kelli his Lycra minidress, made sure they had their apartment keys, and headed out. As they left the bar, they both reached for the door handle at the same time, causing both to gasp with a slight shock of pleasure.

Jon backed off, not wanting to feel that again.

“Lead the way,” he said, happy that Kelli had already been to the apartment and could guide them there.

Kelli did. Soon they were inside the lovely space. Through the tall windows, the lights of the city looked beautiful. Romantic even. Jon smiled, wanting to take it in, but the lure of a soft bed was stronger than the call of the view, and so he bud adieu to his roommate and minced his way into his bedroom when he kicked off his shoes, then fell face-down onto the bed, asleep in moments.

He never even took off the bunny ears.