"Oh Gawd," Jon heard the voice before he saw the speaker, "I am SO sorry."
Jon turned from his perch on the red-skirted table and saw the drag queen who he had been covering for at the kissing booth returning. The man had said he was going to be gone just for a few minutes, but those few minutes had turned into at least two hours. In the time it had taken for the kissing booth attendant to return, Jon had lost count of how many customers he had served, but it was a lot. The line had died down in the last few minutes, and Jon had taken a moment to count his earnings, which totaled over eight hundred dollars.
"Where have you been?" Jon tried not to sound angry, but he was. Sure, the job was easy, but he hadn't signed up for a vacation so he could work, no matter how good the work was.
"I made it to the washroom in just five minutes," the drag queen said, stopping to stand in front of Jon, "did my business, then tried to leave, but the door wouldn't open. I was locked in!"
Jon sighed and adjusted his bikini top. His last customer had gotten aggressive a little touchy feely, causing Jon's breast forms to become uneven. Then, his chest settled, he took in the image of the crossdresser in front of him.
Feeling more than a little uncomfortable to be seen so close to the man, Jon could see just enough dishevelment to believe his story. His long blonde hair was messy, his mascara had run, and his gown was wrinkled.
"Okay," Jon said, deciding that it was better to just take his money and leave than to argue and have a woman see the two of them together, "I'm 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 wad of bills in his hand, trying to decide where he would go next, when from behind him the booth attendant called out.
"Wait!" the man bounced up to him, "I can't just let you go! You saved my job! If the boss had found out that I had not been at the booth, I would have been canned for sure. 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 green pill. "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.
