The Red Pill

"Oh my gawd," Jon heard the high-pitched falsetto voice before he saw the drag queen who had left him in a lurch, "I am SO sorry, like, seriously."

Jon turned around from his spot perched on the front of the red-skirted table and saw the crossdresser returning to the kissing booth. The man had said he would be back in a jiffy, but over two hours had passed, leaving Jon swamped with customers. To say it had been busy would have been an understatement. Jon had lost count of how many people he had kissed, but the cash pile in his hand was a testament to his hard work. The line had died down in the last few minutes, and Jon, happy for a breather, had taken a moment to count his earnings. Two thousand one hundred and eleven dollars! Things had really started to add up when his customers began tipping, but he was shocked to see how high the number had gotten.

It had been an easy gig, but for the second day on his vacation, he'd ended up working for money. He didn't mind helping out. Jon loved helping out. But being on vacation wasn't about earning, it was about having fun, being carefree! Still, now that he knew that there was premium content at the Girl World resort, having some extra mad money would help.

"I'm so sorry," the drag queen said with a giggle, "I got lost looking for the ladies' room, and then I got distracted by some shiny things. You should totally check out some of the jewelry stores around here. They're, like, way awesome!"

Jon sighed and adjusted his bikini top. His last customer had gotten a little enthusiastic with his hands, causing Jon's breast forms to become uneven. The lopsidedness ruined the image he was trying to project, one of a big chested man, like a lumberjack or a professional wrestler. Once he felt a bit more put together, he took in the image of the crossdresser in front of him. His long, blonde hair, his fancy ball gown, his slightly vacant eyes, he seemed like the kind of person who would lose track of time. Maybe Jon shouldn't be so harsh.

"Okay," Jon said, deciding that it was better to just take his money and leave than to argue. A woman might come by and be confused by seeing a man like Jon takling to a crossdresser, maybe thinking that they're together! It was better to get some distance, "I'm just glad you're okay. It was busy, but it's calmed down now. The booth is all yours."

Jon began to walk away, holding the large wad of bills in his hand, trying to decide where he would go next, the sound of his flip flops hitting the pavement. Just as he was about to turn a corner, the booth attendant called out.

"Wait!" the man bounced up to him, "Oh my god, like seriously, I can't just let you leave! You totally saved my job! If my boss found out I wasn't at the booth, I'd be, like, so fired. You have to let me thank you, at least."

"I got paid," Jon replied, still trying to get away, "That's enough."

"No it's not," came the answer in a definitive tone, "you have to take this. Please."

The man was holding, in his outstretched hand, a small red pill.

"What's this?" Jon asked.

"It's for your hair," the crossdresser said, "I can see that you're a busy guy, and don't have time to be taking care of it the way that you should. Just take this pill and you won't have to worry about it anymore." The crossdresser leaned in and spoke in a low tone, "Also, I hear the women love it."

That was all Jon needed. He snatched the pill, popped in his mouth, and swallowed. He didn't stay any longer, but instead sashayed away from the booth in the toughest way he could, looking for somewhere he could pick up a change of clothes, wondering what the tingle he was feeling in his scalp would do.