Saturday, September 13, 2008

The Boutique in the Valley

OK...Imagine you are managing a store for Crossdressers and the wider community;
First call in the morning is from a guy in Texas who wants to know if you can ship him the biggest breastforms you have and glue to attach them; then you get a call from a young man who is in deep hiding from his girlfriend, but he has the afternoon off:can you do a makeover and take some photos? A guy who smells kind of bad comes in and looks at some of the Transformation magazines and you're pretty sure he's nicked a pair of panties; A Gay flight attendant comes in and you have deep conversation- he is convinced he is really a "she" and where should she start? The young man shows up for the makeover, and you dress him, make him gorgeous and take a bunch of pictures; he goes in the bathroom and washes it all off and tells you, as he leaves, that he will be getting married this Saturday; his fiance' has no idea; You get another call from a wheelchair-bound TS in the deep South who actually just likes talking to you; she orders a bunch of the Transformation hormones that everyone knows don't work worth a damn, and yet buy, anyway; you sell a nice young woman, a cancer survivor, a wig, because she can't find a cute cheap wig anywhere and she's tired of being treated like a piece of porcelain, so you make her look hot for a date with her husband, and she gives you a big hug; you get a strange call in the afternoon and then another, from a woman who finally asks you; "what kind of store is this?"; part of you wants to protect your customer and part of you, the part that wins, wants to tell the truth; she sounds angry, then relieved and then a little teary..and then..you'll be damned..she thanks you; just before closing, a guy comes in, and he's a little drunk and crude, says he wants a cincher..next thing you know his hand is on your candy and you get an inch away from his face and start screaming louder than you ever have in your life "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY STORE!!!"
Every day, a surprise.
I miss it sometimes; six days a week I knew who I was.....