Sissypov - Jackie Femboy Hooters Hottie - Pov- -

I look in the small, cracked mirror above the mop sink. The mascara is a little smudged. The wig is still perfect. The lipstick is faded from smiling. I look at the person staring back. She is not a parody of femininity. She is not a kink. She is not a joke to be laughed at by drunk frat boys.

He takes a breath. “Whatever it is that makes you… you.” SissyPov - Jackie Femboy Hooters Hottie - POV-

“You’re observant,” I say, leaning on the bar. I bring my face closer to his. His eyes drop to my lips, then back up. “Tell me, what do you really see?” I look in the small, cracked mirror above the mop sink

I smile, and this time it’s all warmth. “Good answer. Your whiskey’s on the house.” The lipstick is faded from smiling

The world smells like fryer oil, cheap perfume, and the faint, clean scent of my own vanilla-scented body lotion. That’s the first thing you need to understand about my reality. The second is the nylon. The sheer, whispering sensation of pantyhose encasing my legs from toe to hip, a constant, gentle reminder of the armor I choose to wear.

They freeze. That first moment is always my favorite. It’s the click —the sound of their brains shifting gears. They see the curves, the hair, the makeup, the uniform. They see a girl. Then the groom’s best man, a guy with a goatee and a knowing smirk, looks at my hands. They’re not delicate, but they are manicured, nails painted a soft coral. He looks at my adams apple—smooth, shaved, but the ghost of it is there. He looks at the way my shoulders are just a touch wider than a cis girl’s.

I text back: “Tired. Pretty. Yours. 30 mins.”