Chapter Three - Introducing The Southern Belle

James’s eyes gently fluttered open, and for a brief moment, he had no idea where he was. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, plain white plaster with a faint crack from the light fixture toward the corner. The sofa beneath him felt too narrow, the cushions too thin, and the thin blanket that had been draped over his half-naked body was like no sheet he had ever owned.

The man slowly rose, propping himself on one elbow, and looked around. He was in Matt’s house, the former employee who had helped him evade the cops for now. Suddenly, the events of last night crashed into him all at once. Dixon’s manicured hands applying layer after layer of makeup, the humiliating struggle to walk in those dumb clear platforms, the disaster of his first shift on the VIP floor, Maddie’s cold eyes watching his every mistake, and then the disgusting, wandering hands of that loud VIP player whose name James couldn’t quite remember. After that, however, there was nothing. He could not remember getting a ride home, could not remember walking through the door, and couldn’t remember falling asleep on the couch. Had he drunk away his sorrows? There was no pulsing headache to indicate a hangover, and the unexplained memory loss unnerved him.

The blonde pushed the blanket aside and sat up fully, the glued silicone breasts jiggling heavily with the motion. Everything still felt wrong. He shouldn’t have these monstrosities glued to his chest, and he shouldn’t have this long, flowing blonde hair that seemed to get everywhere. The undercover waitress wore a baggy plain white t-shirt that did little to cover his fake breasts and the nipples protruding beneath, along with a pair of light pink granny panties. His heart pounded as he swung his legs off the sofa and stood, his bare feet meeting the cool hardwood.

A folded note caught James’s eye on the coffee table. The blonde snatched it up and unfolded it quickly, scanning the brief message from Matt about how he needed to sort something out at work and to help himself to coffee. The words blurred for a second as frustration boiled inside him, but he crumpled the note and tossed it aside. He wanted answers about his unexplained memory gap, but before that, he needed to find something more suitable to wear before the homeowner returned.

He passed toward the hallway, intent on reaching the stairs, when the full-length mirror mounted beside the front door stopped him cold. The reflection of his blonde-haired face stared back at him, and what he saw sent a jolt of pure revulsion through his body.

No makeup covered his face. The skin looked pale and bare, the long lashes and blue contacts the only remnants of last night’s work. Without the heavy layers of foundation and blush, without the gloss on his swollen lips, his face appeared gross and unfinished. What if someone walked in on him right now? The idea of anyone seeing him this way twisted his gut into knots, a nauseating dread that made his throat tighten.

He couldn’t let Matt come home and see him looking like this. He could not step outside the house or even move through it with his face looking so plain. The thought hit hard and sudden, an urgent need that overrode every other thought. He needed to fix this. Without another thought, the man raced up the stairs and headed directly toward the bathroom.

An hour later, James descended the stairs with careful steps, his body now encased in a fresh outfit he had reluctantly chosen from the limited choice upstairs. He had decided to wear a simple light blue sundress that fell to his knees, the thin straps leaving his smooth shoulders bare, and the bodice hugging the heavy curve of his silicone breasts. The fabric swayed against his hairless thighs as he moved, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen. He had paired it with a pair of flat sandals he found in his closet, grateful for once to avoid the torture of heels.

His face, however, glowed with the full mask he had applied in the bathroom mirror. Foundation blended seamlessly into his skin, contouring his cheekbones, blush giving a rosy flush that looked natural and endearing. Smoky eyeshadow deepened his blue eyes, liner winging out to accentuate his long lashes, and his swollen lips shone with several coats of glossy pink, making them appear even fuller, perpetually parted in alluring invitation. To most women, this was the style they would choose if they were heading out for a night on the town, looking to pick up a hot stud. To James, however, this was the bare minimum required for him to look respectable. Anything less, and he felt sick and gross.

As James stepped downstairs, he noticed that Matt had returned and was busy making coffee in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee filled the air while the man stood with his back turned, pouring a fresh mug. He wore casual jeans and a fitted gray button-up shirt that molded to his wiry frame, his movements relaxed as if this were any ordinary morning.

Matt turned at the sound of footsteps, his hazel eyes lighting up with evident amusement as he took in the sundress and freshly painted face. He set the coffee pot down and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps flex subtly.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Matt said with a grin, picking up the mug of coffee and setting it closer to James on the dining table. “Coffee?”

James hesitated for a moment before he walked over to the table and picked up the mug, finding the need to put something in his stomach. He took a small sip as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Thank ya ever so much, darlin’,” he heard himself say, the words tumbling out in a sugary drawl that made his stomach twist. “A girl just can’t function without her mornin’ coffee, ya know?”

The blonde froze, the mug halfway to his lips again. That voice, light and lilting with an exaggerated Southern charm, was not his. He set the mug down with a clatter and opened his mouth to demand answers, to curse Matt for whatever fresh hell this was.

“What in the world have ya done to my voice, sugar?” The question spilled out breathy and flirtatious, ending on a playful lilt that sounded like an invitation rather than an accusation. James clapped both hands over his glossy lips, his eyes wide with horror at what he had just said.

Matt watched the reaction with open satisfaction, his arms still folded as he leaned against the counter. He took a slow sip from his own mug before he answered. “Paul paid a visit after your first shift last night,” he said calmly. “We had decided that you needed some help after that trainwreck of a first night. Paul worked a little magic to help you fit in better on the floor. That voice, that sweet little manner, it keeps people from suspecting something is up.”

James dropped his hands and stared at the man opposite him. He didn’t remember Paul visiting or getting inside his head. What the hell was Matt talking about? “Change it back right now,” he intended to growl. However, what emerged was a soft, pleading coo. “Oh, please, honey, ya gotta change it back. This just ain’t right at all.”

The words hung in the air, flirtatious and feminine, and James felt heat flood his cheeks beneath the makeup. He tried once more, concentrating hard on deepening his tone, on sounding like the man he knew he was. “I’m serious. Matt. Fix this.”

Carefully choosing his words had succeeded. However, the sentence still came out in the same bubbly cadence he had used a moment ago, as if he were flirting with a stranger instead of demanding his identity back.

Matt set his mug down and pushed away from the counter, closing the distance between the two. He stopped just close enough that James could smell the coffee on his breath.

“You sound perfect for what we need, Jessica,” he said approvingly as he used the blonde’s adopted name. “No one’s going to hear James Harper in that voice. They’ll hear a sweet little Mississippi peach who belongs on that floor.” He grinned widely before making another comment. “And that makeup job you did this morning. It looks amazing.”

The blonde felt an unexpected warmth bloom in his chest at the compliment, a soft flutter that made him want to preen. His glossy lips formed a shy smile as his long fingernails brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes. “Why, thank ya kindly,” he replied, the words dripping with honey. “A girl does try her best to look pretty.”

He shuddered. Something didn’t feel right, but it all made sense. He couldn’t walk around with such a plain face, and it made him proud whenever anyone noticed the effort he had put in. It all made perfect sense.

“Perfect,” Matt said, the grin still wide on his face as he backed away. “I gotta head back to work in a bit. You’re welcome to lounge around and do whatever you need to do to stay comfortable. Your second shift starts tonight, and you want to make a better impression than last night.”

James softly bit his lower lip, his mind reeling from his new dialect and attitude. What the hell had that bastard from next door done to him? He wanted to ask more questions, but also wanted to limit the sound of his own voice, so he simply nodded and let Matt leave the room, leaving the transformed casino manager to worry about how he was going to clear his name and escape this nightmare.

❖

That evening, James stood near the VIP bar at the Royal Crest Casino, wearing the same silver sequined halter microdress from the night before, the plunging neckline straining against his glued-on breasts as he picked up an empty serving tray. The clear five-inch platforms lifted the feminized man’s posture, forcing his hips to sway and putting him on full display. He felt the eyes of the early patrons already on him, the anxiety making him feel sick as he prepared for his second shift.

His supervisor, Maddie, appeared beside him, her own matching dress catching the light as she leaned against the bar, fixing James with a cold stare. “I’m keeping an eye on you tonight, Jessica,” she said sharply. “I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t make me regret it. One more broken glass or clumsy spill, and I’ll make sure you’re scrubbing toilets for the rest of the night.”

James shuddered. The auburn-haired senior waitress terrified him with her snappy and fiery demeanor. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like that by women, and it took him aback. He opened his mouth to retort. However, the words that came out were soft and sweet. “Oh, sugar, don’t you worry about me,” he heard himself say, his soft lilt making the assurance sound like playful teasing.

Maddie’s eyebrow arched, surprise flickering across her face; she obviously wasn’t expecting that response. The woman gave James a curt nod and turned away, leaving the blonde to grip the tray tighter as he stepped onto the floor.

The VIP mezzanine had a lazy buzz about it, far less energetic than the main floor downstairs, as the handful of wealthy men placed their high-stakes bets in between glances at the scantily clad VIP waitresses. James tottered toward his first table, a pair of polite businessmen in tailored suits who watched his approach with open appreciation. Their eyes traveled from the glossy blonde curls on his head to the shape of his ass that the dress barely contained.

“Good evenin’, gentlement,” he said in an automatic breathy drawl. “What can this little ol’ girl get for y’all tonight?”

The older man paused his betting to lean back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the way the sequins pulled tight around the blonde’s chest. “Two Macallans if you can, darling,” he said with a slow smile. “And keep them coming. I don’t want to be seen with an empty glass while I’m here.”

His companion chuckled, eyes tracing the curve of James’s silhouette. “If all the other girls are as beautiful as you, I think we’ll be hanging around a while.”

James felt a humiliating heat crawl up his neck, the blush burning beneath the heavy layers of makeup on his face. He hated how they belittled him, even as a new voice entered his mind. The man complimented him, and he should reply appropriately. A bright smile spread across his face, the glossy lips curving in a way that felt too natural. “Y’all are too sweet,” he replied teasingly as he wrote their order on a pad of paper on the tray. “I’ll be right back with those drinks for ya.”

He turned and walked to the bar, the heels making his hips roll in an exaggerated sway that drew more eyes. The bartender poured the scotches and slid the glasses across for the undercover waitress to pick up. James balanced them carefully on his tray and returned to the table, bending at the hips to service, the dress riding high as he did to give everyone else in the room a great view of his ass.

The men thanked him with a flirty comment. James managed a giggle before moving on, his skin crawling at his own behavior. It felt too natural and easy, and that fact had terrified him.

He passed a roulette table where two brash gamblers in open-collar shirts leaned over the felt, scattering their bets messily. One was loud and red-faced from drink, the other quieter but with perverted eyes that followed Jame the moment he came into view.

“Hey, blondie,” the loud one called, waving him over. “Come sit on my lap and keep me company.”

James felt the tray tremble slightly in his grip, but he moved his body forward with an extra exaggerated sway in his lips as he closed the distance to the table. “Hey, there, darlins’,” he replied in another ultra flirtatious manner. “I’d love to keep ya company, but a girl’s gotta keep movin’ if she wants to keep her job, ya know?”

The loud one laughed, reaching out to brush his fingers along the tops of the blonde’s stockings. Shuddering, James does nothing to stop the man.

“That’s fair enough, doll. Just get us a couple of beers for now, then,” he said. “And make it quick. We’ll leave you a real nice tip if you hustle that pretty little ass back here fast.”

His friend leaned across the table, placing more bets as he made a throwaway comment. “Yeah, I’d love to give her the tip of my cock.”

Both men burst into rough laughter at the crude joke. James felt heat flood his face, the blush burning hot in embarrassment. Inside, fury roared inside his mind, which made it even more humiliating when he responded with a shy giggle and a flutter of his dark lashes that he couldn’t see to control. “Oh, y’all are terrible,” he cooed, the Southern peach cadence making the protest sound flirtatious. “Y’all are gonna make me blush when ya talk like that.”

He turned quickly and hurried toward the bar, the laughter from the men following him the entire way. The bartender placed a couple of uncapped beer bottles on the side, allowing James to balance them carefully on his tray. As the blonde turned to return to the two men, he caught a brief glimpse of his arch-nemesis, Clifford Moss, across the room, the general manager deep in conversation with a couple of valuable customers, his gaze sweeping the floor and pausing for a moment on the silver-clad blonde before moving on.

The stare lingered just long enough to send ice down James’s spine. He gripped the tray tighter and forced himself to keep moving, to keep smiling, to keep playing the part without getting caught. He couldn’t put up with this humiliation any longer. James knew he needed to find the evidence to clear his name, and he needed to do it quickly.

❖

The undercover waitress walked through the back-of-house corridor after Maddie had finally given him a twenty-minute break, his feet killing him from standing on those high heels for over two hours. The narrow hallway stretched ahead as he headed deeper into the corridor. His heart raced with purpose as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was following.

The blonde had waited for this moment all evening. The evidence he needed to clear his name had to be somewhere inside the general manager’s office. Financial records, emails, or something that could prove the infamous ledger had been fabricated. He could not keep living like this, serving drinks and flirting with men who treated him like meat, like some low-class hussy. He needed out, and he needed it now.

The corridor remained empty, with only the muffled music from the main floor and the clatter of pans from a nearby kitchen being the only sounds. James quickened his pace, the clicking of his heels echoing against the walls. He peered through the window of the heavy wooden door marked “General Manager – Clifford Moss”, and bit his lower lip as he discovered it was empty, just as he had hoped. He wrapped his manicured hand around the handle and gently opened it, being careful not to make a sound. James had always kept his own general manager’s office locked when he wasn’t around, and he smiled at the stroke of luck that Clifford was not quite so careful. A stroke of luck at last.

James slipped inside and closed the door softly behind him, the click barely audible. The office felt imposing in the muted light, the large oak desk commanding the center of the room while the leather chairs beside it waited for visitors. A floor-to-ceiling digital screen in the background gave the visage of a calming Hawaiian beach behind the desk. The blonde moved quickly and approached the desk as he began opening drawers, hoping to find something he could use.

Folders and papers filled the top one, supplier contracts and expense reports; nothing out of the ordinary. In his former capacity as a rival manager, those notes would have been interesting and valuable, but they weren’t what he was searching for. The next drawer held a bottle of scotch and crystal glasses, obviously intended for when the GM was entertaining guests, but nothing James could use. The scantily-clad blonde turned to the filing cabinet against the wall, pulling open the drawers one at a time. He found payroll records, insurance files, and maintenance logs. His fingers trembled slightly as he scanned labels, desperation building in his curvy body with each empty find.

The closest he came was when he found a folder marked “Competitor Analysis - Gulf Star.” He yanked it open and stared at the notes on Gulf Star operations, hoping that this was the lead he was looking for. He found market share projections, profit-and-loss account sheets, and statements from former employees about James’s aggressive tactics. There were printed emails and discussions about poaching high rollers, but nothing that pinned Clifford to any illegal activity. There was no smoking gun, no confession.

James shoved the folder back and tried the computer, waking the screen with a jiggle of the mouse. A password prompt glowed back at him. The blonde typed a few predictable guesses, but the screen stayed locked. As the feminized man glanced at the wall clock, he gasped as time slipped away from him. He only had a few minutes of his break remaining, and he hadn’t discovered a thing.

He turned away from the desk as frustration burned in his chest. Every second wasted here meant another minute trapped in this body, another minute serving drinks to perverted self-entitled men. He reached for the door handle, ready to slip out and pretend nothing had happened.

The knob twisted from the other side before the blonde could touch it.

The door opened inward, and Clifford Moss stepped through. Surprise flashed across the man’s face when he saw the scantily-clad blonde standing there in his office. His dark eyes narrowed for a moment. “Well now,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “Jessica, what exactly are you doing in my office?” His words were drenched in suspicion and accusation.

James felt his blood run cold as Clifford’s gaze pinned him in place. He had caught the undercover waitress red-handed in his office, and the blonde didn’t have an answer. The general manager leaned back against the closed door, arms folding across his chest, while his eyes studied his prey with calm curiosity.

James opened his mouth to explain, or to say anything that would get him out of his room. His newfound dialect, however, came out as a flirtatious mess. “Oh, Mr. Moss, darlin’,” he said with a playful charm. “I couldn’t help noticin’ ya starin’ at me out there earlier. I was on my break, and I just thought maybe ya needed somethin’ to drink fetched for ya, ya know?”

Clifford’s eyebrow lifted slowly, surprise giving way to amusement. He pushed away from the door and stepped around toward his desk, examining the items on it to ensure nothing was taken. “Is that right?” he asked with a grin. “You came all the way back here because you thought I looked thirsty?”

James felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He wanted to bolt and get as far away from the powerful GM as he could, but he knew he was treading on thin ice and needed to navigate it carefully.

“Well, sugar,” he said coyly. “Ya looked a little parched, and I wanted to make a good first impression.” His voice was laced with sugary sweetness.

Clifford grinned widely, stepping closer toward the blond. “There’s something… different about you today, Jessica,” he said as he paused, prompting James’s heart to pause momentarily as he wondered if he’d blown it. “I like it. Keep it up.”

The forty-year-old man reached out and lightly brushed his fingers along James’s wrist before settling on the curve of his hip. The touch was casual, but oozed dominance and possession. James felt revulsion surge even as his body leaned into it. “You’ve been making quite an impression around here, Jessica,” Clifford continued. “Kevin West has just walked in and won’t shut up about you. He’s requested your presence again, so you’d best get out there and make me proud.”

James submissively nodded, his glossy pink lips parting in a soft smile. “Of course, Mr. Moss,” he replied.

Clifford’s hand lingered on the blonde’s hips for another moment before releasing, the touch sending a shiver through James’s spine that felt far too responsive. The general manager stepped aside, opening the door with a gesture that felt like dismissal and a gentlemanly invitation all at once.

The undercover fugitive slipped past him, careful not to brush too close. He hurried down the corridor, relieved to get as far away from his rival as he could. The search had yielded nothing, and now Clifford knew he had been in the office. The risk had grown, and James had no proof to show for it. The busty waitress continued tottering down the corridor as he headed back to the VIP floor for another couple of hours of humiliating flirting and submissive serving.

❖

James tottered back onto the floor, his presence immediately drawing the lazy, lustful gazes of the high-rollers scattered around the tables. The office escape had left the blonde shaken, his close call with Clifford still at the forefront of his mind, but his undercover job demanded his attention now. He scanned the room for Maddie, hoping to slip back into service unnoticed.

The auburn-haired supervisor spotted him first. With a stern expression, she marched over to the blonde with purpose and crossed her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded as her eyes narrowed. “You’re five minutes late from your break. I told you I’m watching you.”

James shuddered. It had been years since he had been reprimanded for arriving late to his workstation, and it made him feel small and angry. However, his programmed bubbly response piped up before he could stop it. “Oh, sugar, I’m so sorry,” he said, the words light and apologetic. “Mr. Moss caught me in the corridor and delayed me a little.”

Maddie instantly rolled her eyes as she heard the blonde’s light response. “Seriously, tone down that fake innocent Southern belle act,” she snapped. “It’s annoying as hell, and no one’s buying it!”

The dark-haired woman paused, glancing around the room before her gaze returned to James. “Mr. West has been asking for you since he arrived,” she added. “He’s at his regular Blackjack table. Go say hi before he complains again.”

James felt his stomach drop, but the dialect kept his expression bright. “Of course, darlin’,” he replied. “I’ll head right over.”

Maddie turned away with a huff, leaving James to navigate the floor toward the blackjack table where the high roller, Kevin West, sat. The man looked up as the silver-dressed blonde approached, his red face splitting into a wide, drunken grin.

“There’s my favorite girl,” Kevin called, his voice loud enough to carry. “Have you come to keep me company, sweetheart?”

James stopped beside the table and forced a smile that felt painted on. “Hey there, handsome,” he said. The words sounded incredibly easy and natural. “Ya been missin’ me?”

Kevin laughed, reaching out to grab the blonde’s waist as he pulled her closer. “You know I have,” he slurred. “Bring me another scotch, doll, and put some extra sway in those hips as you walk to the bar. Excite me.” He grinned widely.

The blonde felt the man’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of his hip. The touch sent a wave of revulsion through him, but his body leaned into it. The contrast between his internal feelings and external actions kept the undercover waitress confused. “Oh, honey, ya know I’ll put on a little show just for ya,” he heard himself purr teasingly. “One scotch comin’ right up.”

Kevin released the waitress with a satisfied grunt, his eyes following every movement as James turned and walked towards the bar. He liked this new attitude in the waitress and figured he could push his luck a little more. The blonde added an extra roll to his hips without thinking, the motion automatic and humiliating. He could feel the man’s stare burning into his backside the entire way.

At the bar, the bartender poured the scotch and slid the glass across. James balanced it carefully on his tray and returned, bending low to serve the important customer. Kevin took the feminized man’s wrist again, pulling him off balance so that he had to brace a hand on the table to steady himself. The high-roller had spent almost all of his chips since James had been away.

“You’re looking really good tonight, doll,” the man said in a drunken stupor. “I’m down big. These pigs are rinsing me dry. I know you’re the only one rooting for me, and I’m looking for something to turn my luck around.”

James’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure exactly what the customer was asking for, but surely it couldn’t be anything sexual. “Ohh, sir,” he cooed. “I hate to see ya losin’. What can I do for ya?”

Kevin’s grin turned slow and wicket. He kept his firm grip on the blonde’s subtle wrist and held it closer until James had no choice but to lean closer. “A private dance,” he said slowly. “I just need a calm down to get my head straight.”

The waitress’s pink lips parted in shock. Surely he couldn’t be serious? Not even his own VIP waitresses provide that kind of service. “That sounds temptin’, mister,” he cooed flirtatiously. “But I gotta keep workin’, ya know? Maybe another time.”

He tried to turn away from the drunk player, but Kevin kept his grip and pulled him back. “Is that so, doll?” he grinned. “Maddie!” The man called out James’s supervisor’s name, causing the blonde’s stomach to twist.

The auburn-haired woman swayed over with a wide smile on her lips, a far more accommodating expression than she had ever offered James. “What can I do for you, Mr. West?” she asked politely.

The player looked at the blonde in his grip and smiled at Maddie. “I just asked Jessica here for a private lap dance, but she says you’re keeping her too busy to keep me company.”

That wasn’t exactly what James had said, and he hated where this conversation was going. Maddie narrowed her eyes at the blonde before returning her smile to the VIP. “Did she, sir?” she asked innocently. “We will always make an exception for our best. Jessica would be honored to dance for you.”

The supervisor leaned in so only James could hear. “We need to keep him here until his pockets are empty,” she whispered. “Take him to the private room beside the VIP restrooms and give him a three-minute dance.”

James parted his glossy lips and gasped. He didn’t know how to dance, much less dance in a way that Kevin would approve of. Surely they didn’t expect him to debase himself like this. Without warning, Kevin stood and led the waitress away toward the private VIP room.

The door to the private room closed behind them with a soft thud. Kevin released the feminized man’s wrist only to guide him deeper inside with a hand pressed low on his back. The space was small and dimly lit, with a single plush bench against one wall and a low table in the center. Music poured out through speakers in each corner of the room, far more intimate than the tunes on the main floor.

Kevin dropped onto the bench and spread his legs wide, patting his thigh invitingly. “Come on, doll,” he said drunkenly. “Show me what you’ve got.”

James stood frozen for a heartbeat. He had no idea how to do this. He wasn’t known for his rhythm or moves, and didn’t know the first thing about sensual dancing. He nervously parted his lips to speak. “I’ll do my very best for ya, hon.”

The blonde felt sick as he straddled the high roller’s lap, the platforms bringing him to the perfect height as his dress rode high. The man’s hands settled along James’s stockinged legs, fingers digging in as the undercover waitress reluctantly began to move. Slow circles at first, his breasts heaving with each roll, the friction building a strange heat that inexplicably caused James’s locked cock to strain beneath the faux pussy.

Kevin groaned low and pulled the dancer harder against him. “That’s it, doll,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

James felt a sudden hardness rise beneath him, the big player’s cock shifting in his pants as the blonde grinded against him. A soft moan escaped his plump, kissable lips.

Kevin’s hands slid higher, cupping the realistic-looking fake breasts through the sequins, his thumbs brushing the feminized man’s nipples. The blonde arched his back instinctively, the movement pressing him closer, deeper into the lap.

“God, you’re perfect,” the wealthy man groaned, one hand sliding along the inside of James’s bare thigh above the fishnets.

James ground harder, the three minutes stretching on endlessly. The man’s grip tightened, the friction building heat that made the blonde’s trapped cock strain uselessly against the cage. Why was he getting hot by this?

Eventually, the song faded. Kevin’s three minutes were up. James wasn’t sure if the man would ever release him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when Kevin let go with a satisfied sigh, patting the blonde’s thigh one last time. “That’s exactly what I needed,” he said. “I’m ready to win now.”

Kevin stood with a triumphant swagger, adjusting his trousers as he flashed a final appreciative grin at the transformed man still perched on the edge of the bench. He reached out and gave one heavy breast an entitled squeeze before heading for the door, leaving James alone in the dim room.

The undercover waitress remained seated for a long moment, his thighs pressed together as a wave of filth washed over him. He felt dirty and used, the heat between his legs a humiliating betrayal that refused to fade. Eventually, James straightened the dress and forced himself to stand. Putting on a brave face, he faced the door and headed back out with his head held high.

❖

James sat in the women’s staff locker room after his shift had just ended, the quiet space a brief reprieve from the leering eyes upstairs, and gave him a chance to rest his feet. He perched on the edge of a bench with his elbows resting on his knees. The events of his humiliating shift repeated in his mind like a taunting highlight reel, and he couldn’t erase it no matter what he did.

He reached for the zipper at the back of the silver dress, ready to peel it off and change into something more comfortable before heading home. He just wanted out of this attire, out of this night, out of this body.

Suddenly, masculine footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, halting the blonde in his tracks. James bolted upright and stared in the direction of the noise. No man belonged in here; well, at least, no one except for himself. The door swung open before he could move.

The general manager and James’s rival, Clifford, stepped inside, his suit jacket unbuttoned lazily. His eyes found James immediately before widening into a smile, as if he had found the one person he was looking for.

James froze as he rezipped the dress in a hurry and turned to face his new boss. “Oh my goodness, Mr. Moss,” he said with a high and breathy voice. “Ya startled me half to death.”

Clifford closed the door behind him with a soft click and slowly stepped forward, his arms folding across his chest as his gaze traveled over the blonde with appreciation. “Just like you startled me when I found you in my office, huh?”

The GM leaned against a locker, his gaze steady as he studied the blonde waitress. “So,” he said with a stern expression. “Are you going to stick to your story about why you were in my office, or are you going to come clean?”

James felt panic surge through him as he interpreted the accusation. That bastard had figured it out, James thought; he was done for. His mind raced for any plausible excuse, but his head went totally blank. “Ughh, ummm, you see,” he stammered, the words tumbling out in a flustered rush, unable to form anything coherent.

Clifford watched the blonde fumble for a moment before he laughed lightly. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me the last couple of nights, Jessica,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s obvious you’re into me, and I don’t blame you. Did you sneak into my office because you wanted to ask me out on a date? You got real shy when I walked in, didn’t you?”

The undercover fugitive felt a flood of relief wash over him that Clifford had not discovered his true identity, but horror quickly replaced it at the implication. His rival had insinuated that James had a crush on him, and the blonde couldn’t think of a less incriminating excuse. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. “Oh, Mr. Moss, I… well, sugar, ya caught me,” he replied, his conditioning working overtime. “I got totally flustered around a handsome man like ya.”

The GM’s smile deepened as his eyes flashed with sincere amusement. “That’s what I thought, doll,” he said before approaching the blonde, softly cupping James’s chin. “I don’t usually shit where I eat, and I heard you’re Matt Turner’s baby sister.” He grinned. “He’s a good man and a great employee. However, you have something about you, Jessica, and I’m willing to take a chance. Dinner tomorrow night, then. I’ll send a car for you at eight.”

James wanted to refuse, or scream that this was all wrong, but he couldn’t do so without potentially blowing his cover. Instead, he let out a soft, submissive nod as he accepted the offer.

Clifford brushed his knuckle along James’s jaw before leaning in and giving the blonde a soft kiss on his big, glossy lips. The taste of his rival’s lips against his own made James feel sick, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Good,” Clifford said as he broke the kiss. “Make sure you’re ready in time. I don’t like waiting.” He turned and left the locker room, leaving James alone once again.

The fugitive stood gobsmacked, his heart pounding with disgust and fury. What the hell had just happened? He couldn’t go out on a date with the man he hated more than anyone in the world. He had just agreed to dinner with the man who had ruined his life; how did it come to this? The acceptance echoed in his ears, and the blonde sank back onto the bench, horrified at himself and the trap tightening around him.

❖

The front door to Matt Turner’s house opened, and James walked in after work, back to wearing the light blue sundress he had adorned before his shift. The fabric felt cool after the heat of the casino floor, but nothing could cool the burning humiliation that still endlessly clung to him.

He stepped into the living room and froze at the sight before him. Matt, Paul, and Dixon sat together in the lounge, wine glasses in hand, their laughter filling the air. Dixon perched playfully on Paul’s lap on the large sectional sofa, one arm draped around his husband’s neck while the other gestured animatedly with his glass. The three men looked relaxed as they waited for the undercover blonde to come home.

Dixon spotted James first and let out a theatrical gasp, the kind only a top-performing drag queen could perfect, as he slid off Paul’s lap with an exaggerated flair.

“Oh my stars, look who’s finally home,” he exclaimed, his voice bright with wine and affection. He stumbled over to the bemused blonde with his arms wide, and enveloped James in a tight, swaying hug.

“Come here, darling,” the flamboyant man said, tugging James toward the sofa. “You look like someone just stole your favorite lip gloss. Sit down and tell Auntie Dixie all about it.”

He guided the feminized man to the cushion beside Matt and plopped down on the other side, sandwiching the blonde between them. Paul leaned forward from his spot, his blue eyes curious behind his calm smile.

James felt his gaze narrow on Paul as he noticed him, anger rising in his stomach. That was the bastard who altered his speech. “What the hell have ya done to my pretty little head, mister?” he demanded, the words coming out breathy and flirtatious despite the fury behind them. “Why can’t I stop flirtin’ with everybody like some silly little thing?”

Paul chuckled softly, setting his glass on the coffee table. “I didn’t do anything to you specifically,” he replied cryptically.

James felt his cheeks burn hotter. Was this asshole stupid or playing coy? How the hell couldn’t he pick up the change in James’s mannerisms? “I didn’t sound like some naive bitch two days ago, hon,” he shot back. “This only started after ya supposedly got inside my silly head last night. Ya definitely did something, cutie.”

Paul shifted on the sofa, his eyes steady as he regarded the flustered blonde. “I only guided you,” he responded calmly. “When I had you under last night, and you went under marvelously easy, by the way, I asked you to imagine your version of the perfect casino waitress. How she acted, how she moved, how she spoke. Then I encouraged you to adopt those qualities yourself.”

James felt the words hit him in the face. What did that mean?

“Everything you’re doing now comes from your own mind, Jessica,” Paul continued. “The flirtation, the sweetness, the way you carry yourself. If you’re acting this way all the time, it’s because you sincerely believe that’s exactly how a waitress should behave. A rather outdated point of view, if you ask me.” He chuckled.

The seated blonde felt the blood drain from his face, the realization hitting him like a slap. His own chauvinistic beliefs had turned against him, weaponized into this endless performance of bubbly submission. “Well, ya gotta reverse it, honey,” he pleaded in a breathless coo. “This dumb little act has gotten me in all kinds of hot water tonight.”

Paul picked up the wine and swirled it in his glass. “I only did exactly what I was told,” he insisted, raising his eyebrow at the three on the opposing sofa. “You wanted to blend in perfectly. If you’re unhappy with the results, perhaps you should examine why your mind chose those particular traits for you to adopt.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but Paul interrupted him before he could make a sound. “I do love your makeup tonight, by the way,” he added warmly. “You could probably give Dixie a run for her money.”

A burst of pride flushed through James’s body, swelling in his chest as the comment sank in. The blonde’s plump, kissable lips curved into a genuine smile, his shoulders straightening as the compliment settled over him. “Why, thank ya ever so much, darlin’,” he replied with genuine warmth. “A girl like me does try her best.”

That sense of pride never went away, and the fugitive never thought anything was out of the ordinary, a fact that brought a smirk to the gay man’s lips.

“Anyway,” James continued. “This silly act got me in real trouble tonight. I kind… accepted a date with Clifford Moss without meanin’ to.”

Matt, who up until now was enjoying the conversation, shot up, his wine glass almost slipping from his grasp. The F&B manager’s eyes widened as he looked at the feminized man beside him in shock. “You accepted a what?” he asked hysterically.

James felt the room tilt. “It just slipped out,” he said, the explanation tumbling in flustered sweetness. “He caught me in his office when I was lookin’ for evid…” he paused before glancing at Paul. He couldn’t say anything that would incriminate him. “Looking for stuff. I was tryin’ to explain, but everything came out all wrong, and then the next thing I know I’m sayin’ yes to dinner tomorrow night.”

Dixon let out a theatrical gasp, his hand fluttering to his chest. “With Clifford Moss?” he exclaimed. “Honey, that man is a catch, and has a boatload of money. You caught a big one there.”

Paul chuckled at his husband’s words, but Matt did not look amused. He leaned forward and placed his hand on James’s knee. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into. You’re nowhere near ready for an evening alone with him,” he warned. “One slip up and it’s all over for you. We can’t let that happen.”

The undercover waitress felt dread coil tight in his stomach. He didn’t even want to go through with this plan in the first place, and he wouldn’t have led his hated rival on if it wasn’t for that damn conditioning.

Matt turned to Dixon. “Dixon, I know Dixie can be a magician when it comes to feminine transformations,” he said. “Do you have any other tricks up your sleeve? Something to make sure Jessica doesn’t get found out for the night?”

Dixon’s eyes sparkled with wine and mischief. He stood up and returned to his husband’s lap, leaning into him as one arm draped lazily over Paul’s shoulder. “Oh, darling,” he purred, his voice laced with childish promise. “I may know a thing or two.”

End of Chapter Three