Marriage is a Compromise: 1

 

Out of work due to strike and in need of some money in order to save his marriage,
Parker turns to his brother for a job in a cabaret club.

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Author's Note: Please let me know what you think of this story? Leave me a review. ~Clara.
 
This version of Marriage is a Compromise: 1 has been updated with many corrections towards spelling and grammar.~Sephrena.
 
Image Credit: Image created through the use of ai at https://perchance.org/beautiful-people .~Sephrena.

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Chapter 1
 

“Hello?” Parker spoke into his phone as he sat at his kitchen table, bills and bank statement spread in front of him. “Yes. Yes. I understand, but I spoke to someone there earlier in the week and I explained my situation. You see, my company has been on strike for going on seven months and…”

Olivia put down her dish cloth and pulled out a chair to sit near her husband. She couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the conversation, but there was a sternness in the tone of the voice and Parker’s face was screwed up with stress.

“Yes, Yes, But I just don’t have any money to give you right now. I am hoping that we’ll be back to work in a week or two, but… no… no, I can’t guarantee anything, I’m afraid.”

Olivia glanced at the papers on the table. This couldn’t go on.

“Ok, yes, thank you. I will do my best to get it to you by then.” Parker grunted with frustration and slammed his fist on the table. “Goddamnit, I don’t deserve this crap!”

Olivia had heard this rant before. There was no point in interrupting until Parker got this out of his system.

“I was a good student, I never screwed around with drugs, hardly ever drink, got a good job at a union shop, worked my ass off to get a job in accounting, got my associates degree and became certified… Jesus! Everything was great until the company gets sold to some huge Asian conglomerate and wants us all to work for slave wages! We should not be in this position, Liv! We did everything right! Now, my car’s about to be repossessed, I can’t afford heating oil and the power company could shut us off at any time! This is all such bull shit!”

Olivia folded her arms and waited until he caught his breath. When, finally, he was resting his head on his hand and fuming quietly, instead of ranting, she said, “Was that the auto finance company?”

He nodded.

“What did they say?”

He sighed. “I have ten days to get at least two payments to them or they’re repossessing it.”

Olivia picked up the bank statement and looked at the balance. God, she’d had more money than this in her account ten years ago when she was working at a grocery store in high school. Nursing was supposed to be a great career and it had, thank God, let her make the house payments and her own car payments since Parker’s income had disappeared, but there were limits to what she could handle. The house, her car, groceries, health/car/life insurance payments… it ate up all of her income and, if she was honest, the whole situation was eating up her patience.

“Look, Park, I’ve been very patient and supportive up to this point,” Olivia said with a sigh, “but the time as come for you to make some sacrifices and take a short-term job that may be… below your standards.”

“Such as?” He asked with a petulant look. He crossed his arms and waited.

“Such as anything, babe. We can’t survive another month like this and the strike could drag on forever. There are more than forty-five hundred people out of work because of the strike at Allegro and there weren’t many other places to work in this town before that. I hate to say it because I know how much you hate asking your brother for help, but Pootie did say that he could get you a job at the club. He says they’re always looking for bar-backs and kitchen help. You should give him a call.”

Parker shook his head. He couldn’t believe that Olivia would ask him to take a job like that. He was a licensed accountant, for crying out loud! He wasn’t about to take a menial job, and he certainly didn’t want to call his brother, Patrick, and beg for help.

Patrick was Parker’s ‘Irish Twin’ brother. He was months older than Parker, and Parker had difficulty learning his brother’s name when they were babies. He called his brother ‘Pootie’ and the name stuck. Parker and Patrick were in the same grades and many of the same classes through high school. Pootie, as everyone who knew Patrick called him, was the biggest bully in the schools until sophomore year, when things changed. Pootie had made it a point to beat the crap out of any effeminate boy, up until that point. Then, almost out of the blue, that changed and he started hanging around with Craig. Craig was a nice kid, but he definitely had a bit of a swish about him. Something about their friendship calmed Pootie down. On his nineteenth birthday, Pootie took Parker aside and said he had something important to tell him, Parker nearly laughed. “You mean that you’re gay?” Parker said with a snicker.

Pootie had been shocked. “How did you know?”

“Come on, Poot,” Parker had hugged his brother and smiled. “Everyone knows, man, and nobody cares.”

They grew closer after that, but since their mother had retired to Florida, they just didn’t see each other much any more.

Focusing back on the subject at hand, Parker shook his head, “Jesus, Liv, I can’t believe that you want me to work at some dive bar. I thought you thought more of me than that.”

Olivia folded her arms and took on a serious tone, “Alright, Park, just knock it off. First, The El Camino is not a dive bar. It’s a nice dinner club with a great cabaret show. Secondly, I would think more of you if you’d be willing to suck up a little of your foolish pride and started looking at things from a practical point of view. We need money, Park. We’re on the edge of oblivion here and, as much as I appreciate you taking over the house work and all, you’re not contributing as much to the household as I need you to. You need to start bringing in some money, babe, or you need to bring your car back to the dealership and accept a pretty hard hit to your credit report, and you’ll need to get used to taking cold showers, because when the oils runs out, so does the hot water. Come on, Park. Marriage is a compromise. Meet me half way, won’t you?”

They stared at each other for a few moments while Parker fumed a bit. He knew that Olivia was right, but it ticked him off, anyway. That tone, it just gnawed at him. It was like she was mansplaining to him and it got on his last nerve, especially when she was right, like she was now. It was bad enough that she was taller than him by a good four inches and she had a bachelor’s degree while he only had an associate’s, but since the strike began, she also made a lot more money than him. Did she always have to be right, too?

He huffed a few times, but could not think of a single real reason to not call Pootie. “Ok,” he finally relented, “I give up. I’ll call Poot and see if there’s anything I can do at The El Camino. Satisfied?”

Olivia stood and shook her head. “Park, don’t be like that. You must see reason, here.”

Great, more mansplaining from his wife! She couldn’t just let it drop. She had this tone, sometimes, that just… got to him.

“We took on these responsibilities as a couple and we have to pay them back as a couple. I’ve been doing everything I can. You need to pull some of this weight, too. Ok?”

“Yeah,” he conceded. “Ok.”

“Good. I’m going to go shower and put on my PJs. I’ll be back down in twenty minutes or so. It’s Monday, so The El Camino is closed. Give Pootie a call. See if he can help you out.” She kissed his head and headed to the stairs.

Parker watched her leave and shook his head. “This sucks,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. ‘The El Camino,’ for crying out loud. I’m begging for a job at a place where the owner that doesn’t even know that ‘El’ means ‘The’ in Spanish.” Every time he’d seen the sign for the club, Parker had shaken his had at the stupidity of the owner. ‘The El Camino’ meaning ‘The The Way.’ What morons.

He pushed Patrick’s number. He heard ‘Please enjoy this ringback tone while your party is reached,’ followed by a very distorted recording of Lady GaGa singing, ‘Born This Way,’ causing Parker to shake his head.

“Park!” Came the excited voice of Parker’s brother through the phone. “I was just thinking about you and Livy. What’s up?”

“Hey, Poot,” Parker did enjoy hearing his brother’s voice. He missed seeing him. “I… Umm… I got a problem, Poot, and I am wondering if you might be able to help me out.”

“Sure. What’s up?”
 

 

On Tuesday, Parker met Patrick for lunch at a nice bakery just a block from The El Camino. Reportedly, the place had great sandwiches and the coffee smelled delicious, but when Parker saw the menu and the prices, he knew that it was a little too rich for his blood, right now.

“I’ll have a small, regular coffee,” He told the waitress.

“Don’t be silly,” Patrick waved off his brother’s concerns. “We’ll both have two Ruben sandwiches with the home made chips and large ice teas.” Typically, Pootie was dressed to the nines when Parker saw him. A nice suit with a well pressed shirt was the norm, but today he wore skinny jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt that was substantially oversized for him.

When the waitress left, Parker leaned across the table and whispered, “Poot, I can’t afford this place, right now. I told you, I’m really short of money.”

“Oh, stop it,” Patrick insisted. “If I want to treat my little brother to lunch, then I can do it, and no one, not even you, can stop me.”

Then Pootie smiled and leaned forward himself. “I have great news.”

“Yeah?” Parker was interested and hopeful.

“I spoke to Kate, the owner, and you can start as a bar-back tonight,” he smiled and held up his hand before Parker could respond, “BUT, and this is the best part, one of our wait staff is leaving after the weekend, so you can use this week to earn a few hundred dollars as a bar-back, and when you’re not busy there, you can get trained to be a server, too. So, starting next week, you can make some real good money.”

“Wow!” Parker was really surprised by his brother’s news. It was an answer to his prayers. “I don’t want to sound greedy or anything, but when you say ‘real money,’ how much are you talking about?”

Patrick smiled. “Most weeks, the wait staff clears a couple of grand each week.”

Parker was very surprised by this. “No shit,” he whispered. “Poot, this is unbelievable, man! Thanks!”

“My pleasure, bro, but you need to do a good job, right? I know that you will, but you need to know that I’m putting my rep on the line for you, ok? So, please, make me look good, alright?”

“Are you kidding, Poot? I’ll make you look great, and I’ll make you proud!”

Their food arrived and they dug in and spoke about other things while they ate, but the possibility of an income this lucrative kept returning to Parker’s psyche.

“Are you serious about the kind of money I can make at the club?” He finally asked.

Pootie nodded and smiled. “Absolutely, Park. Most of the girls on the wait staff make over a hundred grand a year. Some do better than that.”

Parker shook his head in disbelief. Then, something occurred to him. “You said ‘girls.’ Am I the only guy who’ll be waiting tables?”

Patrick smile a strangely feminine smile and said, “Don’t worry, Park. See, not all of the wait staff are girls, but all the girls are guys, if you get my drift.”

“Oh…” Parker considered that for a moment. He’d never had a problem with gay people in the past, but he’d had limited exposure to either cross dressing or transgendered people. So, what. To each his own. He just had a couple more questions, though. “But, some do dress as guys, too, right?”

“Oh, Yeah,” Pootie reassured his brother. “A couple of them. You’ll see tonight. Look, Park, don’t get stressed. The bar-back job is yours. If you don’t want to wait tables, that’s fine. Just talk to the wait staff and make up your own mind. Like I said, though, the bar-back job is pocket change compared to waiting tables. You can make up your own mind.”

Parker nodded, then smiled and asked, “Just out of curiosity, Poot, if the waiters make a hundred grand a year, how much do you make?”

Patrick smiled, glanced around the bakery and leaned forward as he whispered, “More. Lots more.”
 

 

“Hey, Liv,” Justine called to Olivia as she was typing a patient update into a computer, “you have a phone call.” Justine held up a receiver and shook it towards her colleague.

Olivia picked up a phone near her and pushed the button next to the flashing icon. “Hello, this is Olivia. Can I help you?”

Through the phone, a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Ms Corbet, this is Ellen from the Town Hall. We’ve been trying to reach you through the number we have on file, but it appears that your number has been disconnected.”

Damnit! The land line had been provided through the cable company and when they cancelled the cable a couple of months ago, that shut off their land line, too. Obviously, they had neglected to notify the town hall and to give them one of their cell phone numbers.

“Oh, hi, Ellen. Sorry. We shut off our land line. I can give you a mobile number if you need that.”

“That’s ok, Ms Corbet,” the woman assured her. “I’m actually calling because we know that your husband is caught up in the strike at Allegro and we’re trying to be as patient as possible, but we have not received the excise tax on either of your vehicles nor have we received any payment on your water bill. I’m afraid that, if we don’t receive some kind of a payment as a substantial down payment towards resolving these issues in the next ten days, we will have no choice but to notify the Registry of motor Vehicles about the excise taxes and, I am very sorry to say, we will have to shut off your water.”

Olivia leaned forward on the desk and rested her forehead on the fist she made with her right hand. She sighed into the phone and said, “Look, Ellen, I understand that we’re getting behind, but the strike can’t last forever and we’ll be happy to pay back everything as soon as we can. It’s just that, at the moment, we’re stretched to the limit.”

“I understand, Ms Corbet, and believe me, I hate making these phone calls, but the town is demanding these payments and there’s nothing I can do about it. I am sorry.”

Olivia was oblivious to the tears that were rolling down her cheeks at this point. “Alright, Ellen. Ten days, right?”

“Yes, ma’m.”

“Ok. I’ll figure it out and get back to you.”

“Great, Ms Corbet. Thank you, and I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“That’s ok, Ellen, thank you.” Olivia hung up the receiver without raising her head. God, they were calling her at work, now. How did her happy life become such a crappy mess? Suddenly, she was sobbing without control. Things had to change.
 

 

It was just past 2:00 in the afternoon as Patrick lead Parker to the door of The El Camino. Olivia had told him that it was a nice place, but he didn’t realize that it was quite as fancy as it was. The exterior was reminiscent of a Vegas hotel, with bright marquees, lots of gold colored metal and names of comedians, magicians and singers who would be appearing in the near future. There was also a picture of the cast of the in-house cabaret cast which featured Pootie at the center. Wow. He was obviously a star, or at least he was here. Parker had no idea.

Patrick stopped with his hand on the door. “Ok, bro. Welcome to my world. Please, don’t embarrass me.”

Parker furrowed his brow in confusion as he followed Pootie into the club. How could he embarrass him?

There was a great deal of activity going on near the huge bar that took up all of one wall. “Come on,” Pootie whispered. “I’ll introduce you to Regina. You’ll be answering to her while you’re working in the bar area.”

As they approached the bar, Parker noticed a distinct change in Patrick’s behavior. His stride became more theatrical and his hands took on a much more feminine demeanor. He swished his way to the rail and shouted in a higher and much more girlish manner to the bar tender. “Regina! Regina!”

A handsome man stood straight and glanced around before finding Patrick waving in the half-darkness of the club.

“What the eff, girl,” the man screamed in a shockingly womanly manner as he moved towards the brothers. “It’s only two o’clock. I never see you before five! What’s up?”

The two men leaned over the bar and kissed each other’s cheeks.

“Reggie,” Patrick said, his hands flailing in exaggerated gestures, “this is my baby brother, Parker. He’s going to be backing for you for a few days.”

“OH, MY GOD!” The man’s enthusiasm seemed a bit overdone, but he climbed over the bar and hugged Parker tightly. “He’s adorable, Pootie! Like a smaller version of you - my favorite girl! Oh, sweetie,” he said to Parker, “I just love your sister! We all love her here!”

Parker looked confused. “Sister?”

The man stepped back and put his hand to his mouth in an expression of extreme sympathy. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were straight. I’m so sorry.”

Parker gave a small, nervous laugh. “You’re sorry that I’m straight?”

“Oh, well, no, dearie,” Reggie explained, “I’m just sorry that I came on so strong. See, we’re all a little… well, flamboyant, I guess, when we’re together. You’ll get used to it.”

Another nervous laugh escaped Parker as he said, “I guess so.”

Reggie gave Patrick a sly smile. “I guess that explains why you look like a housewife going grocery shopping instead of your usual, fabulous self. Hmm, Pootie?”

“Oh shut up, you bitch,” Patrick slid his arm through Parker’s and led him away from the bar. “I’m going to show Parker around first, then, after we’ve had a little heart to heart, I’ll send him back to you so you can train him appropriately.”
 

 

“Is everything ok, Liv?” Justine sat down next to her and handed her a tissue.

“Thanks,” Olivia forced a smile as she looked around to see who else may have seen her crying. Luckily, no one was around. “I’m sorry, Justine. I’m just at my wits’ end with this strike and everything. That call was about our taxes and water bill. Parker is starting a new job today, but I doubt that it’s going to pay much and… well… it’s all just really getting to me.”

“I know, Liv,” Justine rubbed her friend’s shoulders. “My brother works in the shipping department at Allegro and he’s having a rough time, too. In fact, his wife left him last weekend. She just up and took the kids and left. Can you imagine that?”

“Actually, Yeah, I can. Don’t get me wrong, Justine. I love Park and I don’t want to leave him, but I can’t carry this whole load by myself. I hope that this job works out. Even a little money is better than none.”

“I know, I know. Keep looking at the bright side, though, Liv. You and Parker love each other and he has taken over everything at home right? I mean, he does understand that he has to pitch in. It’s just that there aren’t any good jobs around because of the strike.”

Olivia chuckled and dabbed her wet eyes. “You’re right, I know. In fact, Parker has become quite the little homemaker. If he does get this job, I’m going to miss the clean house, pressed laundry and home made dinners. I’ve enjoyed have a little-woman around to take care of me.”

Now, Justine laughed. “You’d better watch they ‘little’ talk around Parker. I know his sensitive about his height.”

Finally, through the tears, Olivia smiled broadly. “I know, but he lets me tease him. I call him my little guy all the time. He’s fine with it, as long as it’s just us.”

“Well, maybe, if you’re lucky, your little guy will be your little bread winner, again, soon.”

“Boy, that would be nice, but, you know, I always made more money than Park. Not a lot more, but always a little more. Hopefully, things will get back to normal, soon.”
 

 

“And this is my dressing room,” Patrick said as he finished Parker’s tour of The El Camino.

All the doors around had name-plates on them that all read, ‘Dressing Room 1,’ or ‘Dressing Room 4,’ except Patrick’s. His name plate just read , “Pootie.” “Wow, you’ve got your name on the door, Poot. Looks like you’re really a star around here.”

Patrick smiled and laughed. “Don’t fool yourself little brother – I’m a star everywhere. It’s just that not everyone knows it.” He opened the door and invited Parker in.

The dressing room was actually fairly large with an impressive, lighted vanity area for doing makeup and hair and there were two large racks filled with costumes – one was filled with suits and tuxedos, the other was filled with dresses and gowns. Parker also noticed that there were a lot of wigs on a shelf near the vanity.

“What do you think?” Patrick asked as he posed and indicated the garments and accoutrements as if he were a spoke's on a game show.

“Nice.” He was trying to be as supportive as possible, but he was a little confused by the feminine items.

“Sit with me for a moment,” Patrick plopped into a loveseat, legs folded tightly at the knees, and he tapped the seat next to him, inviting Parker to sit, too.

“Ok, so there’s some things I need to tell you before the show.”

Parker nodded.

“Well, first is that part of my show involves impersonating some of the great women of show business, as in I dress up and perform as a woman. Does that bother you?”

Parker’s eyes opened a bit and he glanced at the clothes around him. “No, I guess not. Have you been a drag queen long?”

“I am most certainly not a ‘drag queen!’” Patrick waved away the accusation. “I am a female impersonator. I am not an exaggerated cartoon of a woman, I am a salute to all the great women of show business. I salute Lady Gaga, and Bette Midler, and Barbara Streisand… and as you’ve said, I am a star, and I am a star because I do it well, Park. Very, very well. You’ll see. You’ll like it.”

Parker nodded. He hadn’t meant to hurt Pootie’s feelings. “Cool,” was all he could think to say. Then he looked at his brother’s face, so much like his own, but it was definitely a lot smoother and his eye brows had been very well sculpted, too. “So, how long have you been doing this impersonation act?”

“Oh, baby, I’ve been doing it for years. I never discussed it with you, but if you’d ever bothered to come to my show, you’d have known.”

He had a point. Parker wasn’t a fan of bars, at all, and he had intentionally avoided coming to this one for years.

“Are you ok with this?” Patrick took his brother’s hand and looked at him as if he suddenly needed approval from him.

“Ok with this? Sure I am, Poot. You can do whatever you want and I’ll always support it. You know that.”

Patrick relaxed a bit, then tensed right up again. “That means a lot to me, Park, because there’s something else, too.”

Patrick sat a little straighter, took a deep breath and pulled his Harvard sweatshirt up over his head.

Parker stared in shock at his big brother who was sitting on the other end of the couch, shirtless, but wearing a simple, lace trimmed bra. He might have shrugged that off, but in the cups of the bra were two perky, moderately sized breasts. Actual breasts! There was nothing at all artificial about them. They were as real as Olivia’s, but they were on his brother’s chest. It startled him so much that he jumped to his feet. “Jesus Christ, Pootie, What the hell are those!?”

“What do you mean?” Patrick looked at his bra and breasts. “They’re breasts, Park. You’ve seen breasts before.”

“Yeah, but not on you, Poot! When did you do this to yourself!?”

“Oh, let’s see… ummm… I had them done in September of last year, so…” he counted on his fingers, “… I guess about eight months ago. They’re nice, right.”

Parker took a breath and composed himself. He knew he was sounding judgmental and he didn’t want to. “Yeah, Poot, they’re nice, I guess, but… why? Are you going to transition, or what?”

“No, silly,” he laughed. “It’s for the show. I used to wear stick on breasts, but they were giving me terrible rashes, so I made a business investment. I like ‘em. So does Vincent.”

Vincent was Patrick’s boyfriend. They’d been together for ages, but there didn’t seem to be a wedding in the near future.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m surprised as to how sensitive the doctor made them. Seriously, I can come without even having my cock touched. Just having Vincent’s tongue on these nipples and, oh, my God, Park, it’s like I’m ready to shoot in seconds. Of course, I’ve always been happy to be the bottom partner, but this is a whole different thing…”

“Poot, please, I don’t need to here all of this!” Parker held up his hands in the universal gesture of ‘stop.’

“Oh, Sorry,” Patrick laughed. “I forget how squeamish straights can be about gay sex.”

“It has nothing to do with gay sex, Poot. I wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from my straight friends, either.”

Patrick stood and faced his brother. “But, you’re ok with this, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I admit I am confused, but if it’s what you want, then I’m fine with it.”

“Oh, Park, that’s sweet,” Patrick smiled and hugged Parker tightly. Parker could not help but notice that the breasts felt very real and oddly nice.

“You should know,” Patrick said as he released Parker, “that you’re going to see a few other guys with this kind of augmentation working here. Some of the chorus girls and some of the wait staff have them, too. I thought it would be best for you to see mine first so you weren’t too astonished while you were working.”
 

 

Mentally, the work of a bar-back was not very challenging – keep the shelves filled.

Physically, the work was a bit more challenging. It had been a while since Parker had had to haul heavy boxes around and by ten that evening, he was already getting tired.

“You’re going to have to get used to the lifting and hustling those boxes if you’re going to be working behind the bar,” Justine teased.

“I’ll get used to it,” Parker nodded and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

Dressed in a tight, little, black dress with a wildly bright red wig, Justine was made up as a very attractive, if a bit trampy, woman – not unlike many of the female bartenders Parker had encountered throughout his limited experience in bars.

“Are you Parker?” A woman in her late thirties, with bobbed, dark hair and large glasses called over the bar.

“I am,” he responded and extended a hand which the woman gripped firmly and shook.

“I’m Kate, Parker. I own the club. How’s Your first night going?”

“Good, I guess,” he smiled at his new boss.

“I told him, Kate,” Justine interrupted, “that he needs to do some exercising before the weekend if he’s going to survive. I told him that this is a busy night for a Tuesday, but it’s nothing like it’s going to be on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”

Kate smiled at her bartender, then at Parker. “Look, the headliners will be on in fifteen minutes or so and I think Justine can spare you for a few moments so that we can talk. Would you come into the office for a moment so I can have you sign your tax forms, etc?”

“Oh, Yeah, sure,” Parker hustled around the end of the bar and followed Kate to her office where she had his tax forms placed on a side table, along with a pen, so that he could sign them.

When he was done, Kate asked him to sit and she said, “Pootie tells me that you and your wife have had a tough time of it because of the strike at Allegro, huh?”

“Yeah, we have, but this is going to help a lot. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to make some money, Kate. I really appreciate it.”

She smiled and waved away the need to be thanked. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but Pootie is a pretty big deal around here. When I bought this place, it was a pretty seedy dinner theater with a second class cabaret. Pootie was the star and he did some great singing, a little dancing and some stand-up. The problem was, no one was even close to his level of talent. The first thing I did was work with Pootie to get some first rate talent in here and renovate the place to attract a higher class of clientele. Pootie found the whole cast, wrote and directed the show, the became the amazing female impersonator who will be coming on in a few minutes. Have you ever seen him perform?”

Parker admitted that he hadn’t and that he was looking forward to see the show tonight.

“Before I let you go,” Kate said, “I would like to ask you a few questions just to be sure we’re both on the same page.”

“Sure.”

“Question one, Pootie says that you’d be interested in being a waiter because of the increase in pay. Is that correct?”

“It is, Kate. I need money – as much as I can make, as quickly as I can make it. I’m really falling behind on my bills.”

Kate wrote a note to herself and nodded.

“The thing is though,” Parker said, hesitantly, “I’m not a cross dresser, or anything, so… well, as much as I need to make money, I’m not really comfortable about waiting tables as a woman. Could I be a waiter? You know, a guy waiter?”

Kate chuckled. “Yes, of course. The wait staff who dress make about thirty percent more in tips, but I’d never force anyone to dress if he didn’t want to.”

“Oh, ok, great. Then, yes, I would like to be a waiter.”

“Ok, second question, what did you do at Allegro?”

“I was an accountant. Department head, in fact.”

“Really?” Kate wrote another note. “If I had some accounting work here, would you be interested in some extra money?”

“Sure! I’d be very happy to help out if I can.”

“Ok, great. Last question. Do you sing?”

Parker was surprised by the question. “No. Not really. I mean, I was in the chorus and a rock band in high school, but that’s about it. Nothing serious. Why?”

She smiled. “No reason, really. Well, you see, Pootie is a great singer and I just thought that if you sang, too, you may want to get on stage as well. You know – a brother act.”

He shook his head. “like The Jonas Brothers, Huh?”

“Sure,” Kate laughed, “or Donnie and Marie.”

That made Parker laugh harder. He stood and turned to leave, but as he turned the door knob, Kate stopped him by asking, “How far behind are you on your bills.”

It seemed like a pretty personal question, but what the heck, there was no reason to not be honest with Kate.

“Well, it’s pretty bad. I’ve got ten days to come up with a down payment towards my missed car payments or they’ll repossess my car. I’m going to run out of heating oil any day. We haven’t had cable or internet in the house for a month… it’s pretty bad.”

Kate considered that, then said, “Look, I’m going to loan you some money against your first few pay checks. How does that sound?”

“Oh… no… Kate, I’ll pull my own weight…”

“Damned right you will,” she joked as she wrote the check. “I’ll give you fifteen hundred dollars now, and I’ll withhold five hundred from each of your first three paychecks to pay it back. How does that sound?”

His masculine pride wanted to say, ‘No, Kate. I can handle this,’ but he needed that money, badly. So, instead, he said, “Kate… that’s awfully generous of you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

She tore the check from the book, stood and handed it to Parker. “You can thank me by doing a great job and, just so you know, I don’t do this for just anybody. I’m doing this because you’re Pootie’s little brother and I both love Pootie and owe him everything. If helping you helps Pootie, the it’s a good investment.”

Parker took the check and swallowed his pride at the same time. He already owed Patrick for getting him this job. This was just too much. He never expected so much good will from the people at The El Camino. “Thank you, Kate.” Parker looked at the check which represented more money than he’d held in several months and he felt as if he was going to cry with relief. “I can’t… Well… thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled as some Vegas-style music began to play in the showroom. “You’d better get back out onto the floor if you want to see Pootie’s act.”

Parker suddenly noticed that music was playing. “Oh, Yeah, ok. Thanks again.”
 

 

Olivia sighed as she picked up the little pile of mail beneath the slot in their front door. Each letter was a bill and several were final demands on credit cards that belonged to Parker. FINAL NOTICE written all in caps across the envelopes. It was bad enough that they had to go through all of this, but was it necessary to let the mailman know that they were having problems?

It was nearly eleven and Parker wouldn’t be home till at least two the next morning. She wanted to hear about his night, but wasn’t going to wait up. If she heard him come in she’d ask about things, otherwise, they’d talk tomorrow.

She trudged up to their bedroom and took off her dirty scrubs, exhausted and fed up by all of these money issues. She couldn’t live like this, anymore. Tomorrow, she and Parker needed to have a serious conversation. She turned on the shower and let it run while she brushed her teeth. Then she stepped into the spray and let out a shriek as the ice cold water hit her tender skin.
 

 

Parker had not made it back behind the bar. He stood in amazement through Pootie’s entire show. He could not believe that was his brother on the stage – the same young, tough guy, bully who’d been the terror of their neighborhood growing up. The same quiet, twenty-something, gay man, who’d sat quietly for hours, reading and highlighting passages of poetry to show to Vincent. How could either of these people possibly be this beautiful, feminine performer who was so funny and sang so beautifully that the hundred and fifty or so people at The El Camino sat spellbound for more than an hour. Patrick was unbelievable! And when the restaurant closed for the night at 1:00am, Parker gave his brother a huge hug and congratulated him over and over on his amazing performance.

When the kitchen and bar were cleaned and ready for the next day, everyone, the kitchen staff, the wait staff, the actors, the dancers, the musicians, even Kate, all sat down together and had a drink. Some had beer or wine, others soft drinks, others, like Parker, water, and they chatted away about everything and nothing for about forty five minutes. It was a wonderful way to end a busy day and when Parker left that night, he felt like he was a part of something wonderful. Something creative and exciting. He’d always loved accounting, but something told him that this was the life for him.
 

 

Olivia couldn’t sleep. She was too angry. Too disgusted. Too revved up. It was nearly 2:30. Where the Hell was Parker?

Just then, she heard the back door open and close again. Parker had entered quietly and he’d taken off his shoes so he’d tread lightly when he entered their bedroom.

As he approached their master lavatory, Olivia turned on her nightstand light.

“Oh, Hey,” Parker smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You can’t wake someone who can’t sleep, Park. Where have you been?”

“Been? I’ve been at work. I took the job like you wanted me too.”

“Oh, good for you,” Olivia’s anger was oblivious to Parker, but he couldn’t figure out what had triggered it. “Tell you what, Parker, Why don’t you take a nice warm, relaxing shower before you go to bed.”

He glanced towards the lavatory door. “Um, no thanks. I’ll take one in the mornin…”

“NO YOU WON’T PARKER! YOU WON’T TAKE A NICE WARM SHOWER IN THE MORNING, AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?”

Before he could answer, Olivia continued, “BECAUSE THERE’S NO HOT WATER, PARKER! THAT’S WHY! THERE’S NO GODDAMNED HOT WATER!”

Shit! So close, but he didn’t quit succeed.

“I’m sorry, Liv. Really, I am, but I can order some in the morning.”

“GREAT, PARKER! AND WHAT WILL YOU USE TO PAY FOR THAT? A CREDIT CARD? I GOT LETTERS FROM BOTH OF YOUR CARD COMPANIES TODAY. YOU’RE MAXED OUT, PARKER. NO CREDIT AT ALL!”

“I know, Liv, but look.” He took out his wallet and handed her the check that Kate had given him. “That’s fifteen hundred, Liv. And look!” He held up a wad of small bills that he pulled from his pocket. “I got a share of the bar tips. A hundred and forty three dollars. Not bad for a Tuesday night, huh?”

Olivia stared at the check in her hands and the cash in Parker’s and whispered, “Oh, Park. This is… this is great! How did you make so much in one night?”

Parker explained it all. “So, I’ll get up early, deposit the check and call the oil company. I figure, three hundred for oil, two hundred or so to the utilities company and maybe six hundred for the car loan and we’re good till I paid again on Saturday. That’s all good news, right?”

All the stress and anger of the last few days left Olivia’s body all at once. They were going to be ok! Thank God!

“Hey,” Parker asked, “Are you crying?”

Olivia felt her cheek. “I guess I am.” She stood and hugged Parker. She was barefoot and wearing a pale green, loose fitting, nylon nightie. Parker had never seen a woman more beautiful. She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her shoulders. He wrapped his hands around her lower back and breathed her in. He loved being hugged by this tall, strong woman.

“I love you, Liv,” he said, never meaning it more.

“I love you, too, Park.” She leaned his head back and gave him a long, firm, commanding kiss. “Come on to bed, baby. This calls for a celebration.”
 

 

“Are you sure you can’t sing or dance or anything?” Kate asked as they all sat around the tables after the the club closed on Saturday night – well, actually, Sunday morning.

“He can sing, just fine,” Pootie teased, sitting with his hair in wig-cap, his stage makeup looking a bit garish in the bright lights that came on after the crowds left. “He’s just scared to try, again.”

The people around the table started making clucking noises, indicating that Parker was ‘a chicken.’

He laughed at that. “I sang in chorus and in a garage band when I was in high school, but that was a while ago. Patrick can have the spotlight. I’m satisfied waiting tables. And thank you for letting me start doing that so quickly, Kate.” He held up his glass of cranberry juice in a toast to his boss.

She held up her flute of champagne to return the toast. “You’re a natural, Parker. Keep up the good work.”

One of the male-waitresses sitting cross legged next to Parker and wearing a very revealing white blouse over a very short, but loose fitting black skirt, the typical uniform for the ‘female’ wait staff, looked around and said, “Wait. Who’s Patrick.”

Patrick looked as if he’d been wounded by the sound of someone other than Parker saying his real name. “Argh!” He moan as if in unbelievable agony. “Regrettably, I am Patrick. What an awful name, I know, but my mother was not thinking of style when she saddled me with it.”

Everyone laughed at his theatricality.

“I think it’s a great name,” the waitress said. “Where did ‘Pootie’ come from?”

Patrick told the family story that laid the blame for his name on Parker, prompting everyone to laugh, again.

“I still say it’s too bad, though,” the waitress continued. “I mean, like Kate says, you two would make a great sister act.”

“Not happening,” Parker laughed.

“Well, you should at least consider dressing to wait tables,” the waitress said. “You’d make a lot more money, baby. I’m telling you the truth. The first week that I wore a skirt, my sales and tips increased by thirty percent or more. That was the best decision of my life!”

“She’s telling you the truth,” said the only other waiter, besides Parker, who wore slacks contributed. “I could never pull it off, myself. I’m six-one and weigh two-thirty-five, but you’re small, Parker. You could make a yit-load more money if you did decide to do it en-femme.”

“Oh, Yeah!” another waitress clapped her hands. “And you’re so small that could buy right off the rack, too! You should definitely do it, Parker! You’d look so cute! Like a little Pootie!”

“I don’t think so,” Parker laughed at the playful jibes of his coworkers. “I’m a married man, you know.”

“So am I,” said two waitresses, in unison.

“Yeah,” Parker laughed, “But I’m married to a woman.”

“So am I,” replied the same two men, again in unison, causing more laughter.

“Seriously,” one of the two men said, with just a hint of the effeminate tone he used when working, “it’s really worth the extra money.”

“My wife doesn’t mind at all,” the other waitress said. “In fact, she’s kind of into it – especially in bed!”

More laughter.

“Well, I don’t think that Livy would like it,” Parker laughed with the rest of them.

“You never know,” said Kate.

“What size are you?” asked another waitress.

“Size?” Parker shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve got a twenty-five inch waist…”

This was greeted with a huge, shocked intake of air by all the waitresses.

“That’s a size four, you bitch,” one cried out and slapped Parker’s shoulder with a loose wristed slap.

“Come with me,” one of the married waitresses said. “I want to see something.”
 

 

Olivia heard the back door open and close. She’d worked another late shift and had been in bed an hour already, but she wanted to ask Parker how his first Saturday of waiting tables had gone. Thank heavens he’d found a job! She just hoped that he could keep it and that it wasn’t making him miserable.

She heard him at his bureau, setting his watch and phone on their chargers. She heard him undressing and pulling on a tee shirt to sleep in. Then she heard him tiptoe to his side of the bed and she felt him climb in, his warm, slender body laying just inches from hers.

“How’d it go?” She whispered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I’ve been listening for you. How was your first Saturday night waiting tables?”

“It was fine. Actually, I kind of enjoyed it. I liked interacting with the people, I didn’t have any problem keeping the orders straight, the kitchen was on top of everything, no complaints, and I made over four hundred dollars in tips. All in all, a really good night.”

Olivia rolled over and looked at the dark silhouette of her husband laying next to him. She laid her hand on his chest and said, “That’s great, Park. I’m so glad that things are working out.”

“Me too, Liv, and it’s kinda great to see Poot all the time. He’s unbelievable on stage. You should see him.”

“I have, Park. He sang at that bachelorette party I went to last year. I told you he was great.” Her hand circled his chest, softly.

“I should have listened.”

Olivia’s hand slid to the waistband of his boxers and gentle lifted it. She slide a little further down and began playing with his pubic hair. Parker let out a contented sigh. It all felt nice and he was still relieved to have put his money problems behind him, at least for now.

As her hand gently wrapped around the shaft of his penis, Olivia pulled herself up onto an elbow and moved closer. “Does that feel nice?” She whispered.

“It feels great.” She could hear the smile in his voice and she felt him slide closer, his arm moving under hers and wrapping around her back.

Olivia lowered his boxers as she shook her hair from her face and she lowered herself to his chest, where she gently licked and nibbled his nearly nonexistent nipples. He reacted by raising his chest to help her gain access.

As she continued, she rolled half onto him and now used the soft, silky material of her loose fitting nightgown to wrap his penis, which she continued to massage through the 7soft, feminine material. Parker always enjoyed this treatment.

She felt him hardening and she was going to move to take the dominant position, but she wanted a kiss first. “Kiss me,” She whispered and she lowered her head towards his mouth.

He raised his head to meet her part way and their lips joined in a tender touch, but… something wasn’t right. Olivia pulled back. Her hand remained on his manhood, but her head was raised above his.

“What’s the matter,” Parker asked.

She lowered her head to kiss him again, but the same problem persisted.

“Park?” She asked. “Are you…?”

Parker was confused. “Am I What?”

She pulled away from him and turned to turn on the light. When she looked at her husband, she was shocked. She sat up and scowled at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Parker Corbet,” Olivia was flabbergasted, “Why are you wearing makeup?”

Parker’s hands shot to his face. “Oh, shit, Livy. I’m sorry.” He sat up and looked at her apologetically. “I forgot to wash it off. Sorry.”

“Wash it off? Parker… I don’t understand. Why are you wearing makeup in the first place?”

“Ok, just relax, Livy, and let me explain.” He gave a quick summary of the conversation he’d had after work and the way that the others on the wait staff were encouraging him to start dressing as a woman to increase his income. “They were just clowning around, Liv. We were all tired and silly and they wanted to show me how I’d look if I were to become a waitress. It was just a little fooling around. I’m sorry. I was so tired, I just forget to wash it off before I left.”

Olivia had calmed down and saw a little humor in the situation. She knew that Patrick did a female impersonation act and that some of the wait staff were men in drag, but Parker had always had a bit of a Napoleon complex. He was very sensitive about his slender, five foot four inch frame and he always tried to assert his masculinity when they were out in public. In the bedroom, due to her bigger size, Olivia had always taken the dominant role, but that had just sort of evolved and, since they both enjoyed their sex life, neither gave it much thought.

“Did you wear a dress, or anything?” She asked.

“No,” Parker laughed. “One of the guys put his long wig on me, but that’s as far as it went.”

Olivia was disappointed when Parker told her that he hadn’t taken any pictures. She was uncharacteristically curious about how he would have looked.

“Just give me a second,” Parker said. “I’ll go wash it off.”

“No, wait,” Olivia said, a little too quickly, “kiss me again.” She leaned over him as he sat against the headboard and she kissed him softly, gently biting his lip as the kiss ended.

She giggled a little. “I never kissed someone wearing lipstick before.”

She kissed him, again. A little more aggressively. “I kinda like it,” she said before kissing him a third time, this time thrusting her tongue deeply into his mouth.

Parker threw his arms around the suddenly strong shoulders of his aggressively amorous wife. As she searched his mouth with her tongue, she maneuvered his boxers down his legs and over his feet, leaving him in just a loose, slightly too large tee shirt.

She gripped his penis, which had gone a bit soft, with the strength of a vice, and Parker’s body responded with a shudder of a little pain, a little fear, a little acceptance and a lot of desire to be taken by this woman – and she sensed that in a way she’d never sensed it before.

“Shh, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

To prove that, she again encased his tool in her silky night gown. She worked him with a firm gentleness as she felt his will fade and her power increase.

After kissing his lips until they ached and nibbling his ears and kissing his neck with so much enthusiasm that he could barely breathe, she knelt up and looked at her made-up husband. His lipstick was smeared by her manhandling of him, but that just made him cuter, and the big, yellow tee shirt he wore looked like a nightie on him. Something was happening to her. Something she never thought she had inside her was not just rising to the surface, it was exploding her from within. She was awash with a manly desire to take this girlish image before her.

She reached down and lifted the hem of his shirt, guiding it gently over his head as she removed it. She was almost disappointed to see a flat, boyish chest revealed. Part of her had hoped that he’d have somehow grown pert, girlish breasts – not womanly ones like hers, but small, girlish buds that she could encourage by sucking and nibbling them to maturity.

Surprised that Olivia had stopped, Parker tried to catch his breath and asked, “What?”

She smiled back at him and she smiled with manly desire. “You’re beautiful,” she smiled.

He smiled back and replied with a breathless whisper of his own. “Thanks.”

Quickly, Olivia pulled her gossamer, blousy, baby blue nightgown free of her knees, then over her head. She knelt above her husband, powerful, ready to take him, to use him, to conquer him.

“Sit up,” She whispered and when he did, she slipped the soft nightie over his head, helping him to raise his little bottom up so she could pull it past and beyond so that it reached all the way past his pretty little knees. The garment was still warm from her body heat and Parker could smell her scent in the material – lavender and vanilla from her body wash and the strawberry of her shampoo.

She sat back on her heels and took in the sight. His feminine face made up prettily, but with the smeared lipstick indicating that there was nothing virginal about this little beauty. His small, but long neck, led to a small, thin body that was clad in a white lace, v-neck that trimmed the feminine, blue garment. If she’d had a penis, she knew that it would have been as hard as a rock.

She climbed over him and settled her knees in his armpits, raising herself and steadying herself on the headboard, forcing her womanhood into his face. “Eat me, please,” and he did. He’d only done this a few times before, but this time he did it with aplomb. His tongue was gentle and forceful and playful and exciting and she shook with excitement as she came and came and came again.

Finally satiated, she climbed off the bed and stood beside the bed, becoming excited all over again by the site of the feminine body in her bed, waiting for her to take him.

She raised his knees, spread his legs and climbed into the space in between. Feeling suddenly empowered, she decided to try something that she’d never done before, but she’d learned about in nursing school. She reached for her pillow, then raised Parker’s rear and tucked the pillow beneath. Then, slowly and gently, she began inserting first one, then two, then three fingers into his anus, searching for his prostate.

Parker let out shocked, joyous noises as she maneuvered her fingers, and eventually her fist, in and out of her husband. She knew that something very important had changed in their relationship. She knew that he was now hers in a very new and very different way.

And there it was. She felt it and she saw it in his reaction. He’d never felt this way before – far beyond vulnerable and with no sense of his old self left. He was new and he had needs that he’d never known before. He needed to be Olivia’s. To be hers completely, totally and in all ways imaginable. He was a teenaged girl experiencing sex for the first time. He was a housewife having an affair and experiencing the wonders of a strange man’s huge organ. He was a princess being deflowered. He was hers, now and forever.

He began to quiver as she tickled him, deep within himself. His body tensed and Olivia knew that his acquiescence to her manipulations was about to manifest itself in an ejaculation, so she gently moved the nightie away from his groin and lowered her lips to the stiff, quaking organ. She kissed its tip and gave its shaft a soft lick before devouring it just as it sprayed rope after rope into her mouth.

She removed her hand from his bottom, but held his penis in her mouth until it was small and soft again. Then, she slipped her lips from him, raised herself to his painted lips and kissed him, deeply, forcing her ejaculate-covered tongue far into his mouth and filling it with her tongue and his seed.

Now she sat back and gazed at her nymph like partner. She’d penetrated him. She’d made him swallow ejaculate. She was suddenly strong and in control and she liked that – a lot.

“Oh, my God, Liv…” Parker began to speak, but she interrupted him with a ‘Shh,’ as she reached for a tissue from the nightstand and she wiped his penis dry. Her touch was in no way the touch of a professional nurse. It was the gentle, maternal touch of a loving woman, but it was also the touch of a paternal husband who was just taking care of the situation.

Once the area was clean and dry, she lowered the nightgown back around his knees. “Come with me,” she said in a quiet, decisive voice, “and I’ll help you wash off your makeup.”

She stood and helped him up. As he began to gather the nightie together in preparation to pull it over his head, she gently removed the silky material from his grip and said, “I want you to wear that tonight.”

“Yeah?” Parker asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I like it on you.” She hugged him to her naked breasts. “You like it too, don’t you?”

He looked down at the garment, so different from anything he’d ever worn before. “It feels nice.”

She smiled. “It would feel even better if you didn’t have all that hair on your arms and legs. We’ll talk about that, tomorrow…”
 
 
To Be Continued...