Work at the bar.

You chose the bar job. You know you'll get hit on, but you know you'll get a lot more tips than the restaurant job, and it's much safer than the stripping job. You can't believe you even entertained the idea. "Lets check out the bar job."

"Look, haha, Callie, god, I'm going to have to get used to saying that--", Esther explained while driving down the freeway, "a lot of men are going to hit on you. They will say anything to get into your pants. They'll buy you drinks and they'll sweet talk you. I've been a bartender before. DO NOT DRINK ON THE JOB. Or at all for that matter..."

"Heh! Well you would know!", you teased Esther and she replied in kind "oh fuck you you whore!" as you both had a running joke of how much of a slut she was when she was drunk. That was pretty much true of any woman you'd ever gotten drunk with, looking back on it. You note to yourself to stay as far away from **** as possible if you can help it.

You noted the irony of thinking that while going to apply for a job at a bar where they served alcoholic beverages as a profession, but affirmed to yourself that you could maintain your self control. You were a pretty disciplined... had been, a pretty disciplined guy after all. You knew how to handle yourself, you ate right, only drank occassionally.

Besides, this might actually be fun. You realized you had a power over men that you didn't have before. As long as you didn't get yourself into any dangerous situations, you could make a great deal of money out of such a gig, experience what it was like to be female for a while, and take a much needed break from the monotony of your old life.

Your cellphone rang, breaking you out of your mental revelry on the way to the bar. "Shit! It's my mom! Fuck! God damn it! What am I going to tell her?!", you say as you find yourself panicked all over again. You had been too shocked to remember you had parents.

"Just text her. I haven't talked to my mom for over three months. It would ruin my day.", she advised plainly. "I guess you're right," you responded in a defeated way. Did you want to tell your mom? Maybe she could help... You had more pressing issues to attend to. You texted your mom, "Can't talk right now, at work. Text me so I can check it on break."

You pulled into the bar parking area. It was about noon, the place was dead save for one truck, probably the manager's. You groan a distinctly male kind of groan as you pull yourself out of the car --- it hung low and in such a tight outfit it was squeezing all your loose contours in all the wrong ways.

It was still going to take awhile to adjust to this new way of walking. Everything swayed and buckled back and forth, even as you tried to keep your tits and ass from doing so. The exterior of the establishment was decent enough. It was unassuming but not trashy. This could work. There was an unlit neon sign emblazoned "THE CHEEKY GENT" with a dapper looking fellow winking with a top hat, monocle, and a cigarette holder.

As you enter you hear the door bell go "ding" and a large, muscular, man with short hair and a hint of stubble leaned on the bar and beamed a smile at both of you. He reminded you of yourself, before your transformation. The thought put you at ease. "Hello ladies, what can I do for you today?"

You put on your best smile, but it didn't come naturally to you yet. Even your lips and your jaw were different. "I'm here about the bartender job you placed.", you said politely. The man rubbed his chin, looking you up and down and said, "Have you had any experience bartending before?" You blushed a little and said almost in an unintentionally demure way, "No, but I'm willing to learn..."

Esther steps forward and says, "I was a bartender for awhile, I can show her the ropes. You wouldn't even have to pay me. She really wants to do this." "Is that true?", the man questions you. You got the hint that Esther was working an angle to get you in. You nodded your head and said enthusiastically, "Yes, absolutely!" You were obviously inexperienced, but what could be so hard about pouring drinks and taking money from a bunch of drunks?

The man seemed doubtful but after a long period of silence and peering at you he said, "Ok. On that condition I'll take you on. But you have two weeks to prove yourself, and you... what's your name?" "Esther." "Yes, Esther, she will pick up the slack while you learn. And I don't short people their work, you and Esther split the tips, 25% goes to us. Hmm... You're dressed for the job, showing off your curves, that's good. You'll bring in a lot of money. If you have any problems, you come to me. Shift starts at 5 PM today. What's your name?"

You stood with a blank eyed stare as if you had just be pummeled with an avalanche of rocks. The man was so businesslike, he talked so fast. You break out of your trance abruptly respond, "oh! uh. Callie! Callie Blakemore!" The man smirks and asks skeptically, "Is that your real name, Callie Blakemore?"

You turn beet red and sputter, "Oh, uh I--yeah! Yes. That's my name." The man chuckles, sips a beer, and tells you, "Look, these days, we don't ask any questions and we don't expect any answers. I don't want to know, and I don't need to know. As long as you're not bringing any trouble with you." All your tension melted away as he said that. He noticed the change in your demeanor.

"Let me guess," he said, pointing his finger at you,"XChange victim am I right?" You nodded your head sheepishly. He looked down and shook his head. "Temporary or permanent?", he inquired. "Temporary, but the girl who did it gave me eleven Xtra strength pills.", you explain, trying not to rat out Esther who is obviously still profoundly guilty and nervous.

"Well that's good," he commiserated, "I mean eleven months is a hell of a long time to be a chick, but at least it's not permanent. We'll keep an eye out for you here. One of my brothers --- now sister --- got turned a few years back. People really shouldn't be playing around with this stuff. It's really a horrible thing to do to a person. So, why didn't you call the cops? They have rehabilitation programs for XChange users you know."

You could tell Esther was about to burst out crying again, but you draped your arms over her shoulders to calm her down and told him, "The bitch fled, never to be seen again. You sleep with the wrong woman these days and she can just dose you... My best friend here though has got my back. I never thought I would need a friend, who is a girl, as much as I do now."

The man stated with resignation, "Yeah. I don't know what's going on with the world these days. All I know is watch your drinks and prepare your own food. I've felt like a god damn paranoid schizophrenic for the past five years." You could see he was getting drunker and sadder, he must have had some traumatic experiences working in this bar for so long.

You decide to leave him in his misery. "So, 5 PM, then?" "...Yeah. See you then, 'Callie'. Get ready for the flood.", he answers cryptically.

You and Esther get back in the car and head over to a Mexican food restaurant you both like very much. "What did he mean by get ready for the flood, Esther?", part of you knows exactly what he meant, but the other part of you wants to be prepared in no uncertain terms for said "flood".

She explains the situation. "It's not an easy job in one way: drunks get loud, obnoxious, and grabby. That goes for the men and for the women. You have to set your boundaries. Fights break out at least once a week, no matter what bar I've worked at. If someone doesn't back down after you say no a couple of times, get the staff or the manager."

You're relieved she'll be with you the first few weeks. She knows her stuff, obviously. With Esther, it's like a light switches in her head from girly mode to an all business no shit taking alpha female. It always impressed you. You never had the same capacity. Your maleness was always your strength you could project to the world to keep your "don't fuck with me vibe", but now that was gone, replaced with a body that screamed to everyone in eyeshot "come hither".

"Looks like it's go time." you said looking at the clock on the wall, marking 4:30. The tension in your mind and body were nerve wracking.