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The Reluctant Waitress

Part One

(Reluctant Transgender Fiction)

By Tabatha Wild

© Copyright Tabatha Wild 2017

The right of Tabatha Wild to be identified as the author of this book

has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the

Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this

work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical

or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including

xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information

storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission

of the author. All characters in this book are over the age of 18 and

have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no

relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.

They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known

or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Smashwords edition 19-05-2017

This is a Stark Books publication.





One – Desperate Measures.

Two – Revealing all.

Three – Becoming Shawny.

Four – Exposed to the outside world.

Five – Wined and dined.

Six – Developing a rivalry.

Seven – New persona.

Eight – Taking command.

Nine – Another dimension.

Ten – Too many options.

Also by this author


1. Desperate measures

The invite to go to Marbella with George came completely out of the blue. He was 23, four years older than me and we worked together at a DIY store in London. He managed the plumbing department in which I worked alongside him and a couple of teenage girls. We spent most of the day slaving away, filling shelves and sweeping the aisles. It was a boring godforsaken job, so the offer of a break in the sun was too good to refuse.

A couple of weeks in Marbella on the Cost Del Sol, drinking and pulling dolls, was just what I needed.

I had known George for over a year. We had been drinking and clubbing together, with a few mates, countless times, so I was perfectly comfortable in his company. He was a real mam’s man, so led the way in virtually everything we did together. I was a follower and a bit of a soft touch, so it was inevitable that he arranged our nights out when we arrived at the Costa Del Sol.

What I didn’t know before we left was that he had booked us into a hotel and only paid for the first week. He had planned to meet up with an old friend, who owned a villa, but had gotten the dates wrong, so the accommodation didn’t materialize. I was furious when I found out a few days into the holiday, but he assured me that one of his friends would help us out.

We had partied all week and unfortunately blown all our money, leaving us totally skint and unable to pay the hotel bill; or buy a ticket to go home. Our flight home was a week away and the airline wasn’t interested in changing the flight date and time. Apparently, it was the height of the season and they were fully booked.

If I’d known that George was such a careless person with money I would never have let him talk me into going to a foreign country with him. I was at my wits end and about to propose that we hitchhike back to Calais.

However, he was still confident that he could track down one of his old friends he had met in Marbella on one of his previous visits.

It was our last night at the hotel and we were desperate. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I’d start packing our gear, so we were ready to make an early start in the morning. When he showed up at 9’oclock he was excited and full of himself.

“Good news Sean, I ran into an old friend who’s running a new club not far from here. He's short staffed and says he can give us a room, so long as we work a couple of nights in the club.”

“What, like behind the bar?”

He became more serious and shrugged his shoulders. “He said he’d sort out jobs for us. Look it’s too good an opportunity to turn down. We can work as many nights as we want and we get a room and a hundred euros each, enough to get us home.”

“Hardly, George, but it’s a start. What’s the name of the club?”

Another hesitation. “Tranz-A-Go-Go.” He stood awkwardly, waiting for my reaction.

“Are you serious, George?”

“Never been more, pal. Desperate needs require desperate deeds and this is what it all comes down to. He said we can drop by tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock and sort the fine detail out.”

George spoke a load of crap most of the time, but he had been to Marbella during three of the previous summers and had fallen in with a number of drinking buddies. That didn’t make them friends in the true sense of the word. In fact, we had been let down by one of his ‘friends’ and were now desperate for somewhere to stay.

“How well to you know this guy?”

“Jose? I met him the first year I came here in 2013. He was a bartender at the Madera. We were staying in the same hotel and he helped me and a mate find a couple of good parties. We had a great time.”

“So, he’s not gay then?”

“Nah. But, he’s moved up in the world. It’s a large club, so he must be raking it in.”

“How did you run into him?”

“I met another friend who put me onto him. It was pure luck that we both knew the same guy.”

I had never been in a gay bar, or club, in my life, so I hadn’t got a clue what it would be like to work in one. “If it’s working behind the bar, I can cope with that, but I’m not serving tables and rubbing shoulders with a bunch of drunken gay revellers.”

“Sean, you’ve got to loosen up, mate. We’re on holiday, so chill. Who knows, we might meet a couple of horny lesbians who forgot to pack their dildos.” We both laughed at his crass joke, but inside I wasn’t amused, only angry at the way George had landed us in the mire.

2. Revealing all.

The club was attached to a rundown hostel. It was a dowdy building, but we found the room that Jose had promised George, easy enough. The clubs relied on young tourist staff, so often offered a place to stay while they worked during the summer holidays.

Earlier, when we arrived at the side entrance to the brightly decorated nightclub, George popped in to get the key. Then, making the short trip to the adjoining building, we climbed a couple of flights of concrete stairs to the third floor and room 33.

The long narrow room was in a poor state. A mini-kitchenette was equipped with a sink, microwave and battered fridge. The small work area was fitted against the far wall, in the centre of the room. Single beds had been positioned at opposite ends of the room, while a wardrobe, dressing table, two chairs and a small table had been left haphazardly dotted around in the spaces that were left. A narrow door led into a tiny toilet/shower room, which thankfully was clean and tidy.

I dumped my bag on a bed and drew the zip back.

“Don’t unpack yet mate. Jose wants to see us first.”

“He might want someone with experience. What if he doesn’t like me?”

George looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t he? You look more gay than I do!” He roared with laughter and I joined in.

He was speaking crap again, but in his eyes, I probably looked more effeminate. I was only 5’8” to his 6’0” and I was slim, while he was heavily built. His dark hair was shorter than mine and I had only just started to shave, while he had a dark shadow. We hadn’t had much success with the girls, but those that did chat with us, migrated toward George and his rugged features.

We were both sitting on our beds, on opposite sides of the room, but I could clearly see his troubled hazel eyes. “I told Jose that we were a pair, Sean …”

“What? You told him we were gay?”

“Well … he would have assumed so, er, yes.”

“George, you’ve gone too far,” I exclaimed. “Surely, if you know this guy, he must know you’re straight.”

“There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since I last met him. For all I know, he might be gay.”

“Fucking brilliant! What a mess!”

“Look Sean, just play along with the idea. We’ll be on our way home in a couple of days and we’ll have money in our pockets. No one knows us here and when we look back, we’ll see the funny side of it.”

I didn’t agree, but there was little point arguing about it, until we had been to see Jose and found out the details.

We retraced our footsteps to the club and entered through a side door, into the office and warehouse area. The doorman escorted us to Jose’s office, where he and a young woman were busy discussing business in front of a large whiteboard.

“George, there you are, find the room okay?”

“Yes, no problem. This is Sean …”

“Good to meet you.” We shook hands and then turned to his companion. “This is Maria. She co-manages the club with me. She’ll sort your uniform out.”

We both gave her a smile, but she didn’t step forward to shake our hands.

Maria had long dark hair that tumbled over strong shoulders and framed her oval, pretty features. She was younger than Jose, maybe only 25, but strongly built. Tight denim shorts and an even tighter crop top left very little hidden of her shapely, healthy body. Maria, wasn’t someone I’d want to tussle with, unless I was in bed with her. She was running her eyes over my body, which I found a little disconcerting.

“So, you boys have been in Marbella for a week?”

She was staring at me. “That’s right. Soaking up the sun.”

“Have you been in the club? Seen how we do things?”

“No, we haven’t,” George piped up. “We didn’t know about the club.”

He sounded lame and looked extremely nervous. Maria was still eyeballing my body.

“I’m guessing you’re an eighty-five centimetre waist.”

I had to think, because I was used to inches. “Er, more like ninety.”

“Shoe size?”

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