How far is that washroom? Jon thought as he stared at the line-up of men waiting to kiss him. It had to be at least thirty deep, and that didn't count the forty or fifty men he'd already taken care of. Sure, he was being a good guy by helping his fellow man, doing a community service by helping men feel more loved, as well as earning a little bit of cash, but his lips were beginning to feel chapped!
When the drag queen had asked Jon to step in for him at the kissing booth, Jon imagined that it would only take a minute or two, but that had been over an hour ago. At first the time had flown by, but even doing a job that is pleasant is doing a job, and Jon had better things to do. He was on vacation! He wanted to see the sights, to explore the island, not spend all day stuck in a kissing booth covering for a drag queen he had just met.
Not that Jon could complain about his customers. They were great. Sure, the sign said One Dollar, One Kiss, but not one of them had left such a paltry payment for a pucker. There were fives, tens, twenties, and even a fifty stuck in the cash box, all from eager and grateful men who had enjoyed having their spirits lifted by a new friend.
They hadn't just been generous with their money, either. Each man had been a great guy, very understanding of how difficult a situation Jon had found himself in. Sure, Jon thought he was a good kisser, but he was an amateur. There had been no orientation from the transvestite, no special training. Jon was winging it. The customers didn't care. Whenever Jon lacked in style and ability, his customers picked up the slack.
Jon's first customer had been satisfied with a gentle peck on the lips. It had been so gentle that Jon gave him a second at no extra charge, this one longer, eliciting a slight moan. The second customer had been a bit more intense, a man who obviously needed a good friend, so Jon allowed the customer to lead, a strategy he kept the rest of his shift. He'd held Jon's head with one hand, causing Jon to lean forward over the booth, pulling him into a heated lip lock.
Once it was done, Jon decided that sitting on the far side of the booth was just going to be uncomfortable. That's when business really started picking up. Sitting on the booth's table, his smooth legs crossed in front of him, Jon welcomed customer after customer. Each kiss was unique. Some were heavy on tongues, some wanted to wrap their arms around him. A surprising number of men seemed to be more concerned for Jon's exhaustion, picking Jon up from his perch and allowing him to wrap his bare legs around their hips as they kissed, giving Jon a nice break from the hard surface. It was this kind of thoughtfulness that reminded Jon of how warm an friendly Girl World really was.
Jon's last customer had been the most considerate. He'd dropped two twenties on the table and told Jon to bend over the table. This man, obviously knowing that Jon's lips were beginning to rub raw, wanted to give Jon a freebie. All the man had wanted was to stand right behind Jon, his denim-clad groin pressed against Jon's round bikini-clad ass, and gyrate. Jon had never felt this massage technique before, but it was glorious. Every kind he felt in his neck and back worked itself out as the man rubbed him from behind.
"Thanks, honey," the customer said, wiping the sweat from his bald head with a handkerchief. Jon just smiled at the man, reached over the booth's table and retrieved the tube of lipstick. Since he had a break, he might as well touch himself up.
Straightening up, he knew he could quit, he knew he could just leave the booth. It wasn't his job, after all, to kiss strange men. That honour belonged to the drag queen who had disappeared earlier. But, since Jon had been raised to be a man of his word, he looked up at the long line and did the right thing.
"Next," he called, sitting back down, wrapping his fingers around his customer's neck, and pulling him into a friendly kiss.
