I was damn near broke and way past desperate.
So when the hot lady bartender confessed her secret to me I had to take her up on her offer. I had to see if she was right. I had to see if becoming a woman would mean more money for me.
I didn’t count on the cravings.
Every man I tended. Every man I served. Every one of them made me crave them, made me want more satisfaction than my own fingers could offer. Made me want to cross a line I swore I wouldn’t.
Excerpt
Bartenders are, by a bit of necessity, a central fixture of any good bar. Regardless of who you are people want to make a connection with you, they want to be your friend.
But as a woman it was something so much more than that. They would fall over themselves to draw my attention. Something as little as a smile and a compliment would have them eating out of my palm. I could twist and turn them, laughing and calling them cute and watching them love every bit of the attention I was feeding them.
And I was loving it too. I’ll admit that the eyes I caught checking me out when they thought I wasn’t looking thrilled me. More than once I was glad there was no outwardly visible signs quite as obvious as an erection for women, because I have to admit that having all these men pay all of that attention to me was thrilling in a way I’d never felt before.
I know that I could have had any one of them, that all of them would have done damn near anything to take me home for the night. I was tempted too, I’ll admit that. That little itch had just gotten more powerful the more attention was lavished on me.
It was damn difficult to push it down and focus on the job.
More than once there had been a customer who was undeniably handsome drawing my attention across the bar. More than once I’d found myself wondering what he was packing under those pants. More than once I’d thought about pulling him into the back room for a bit of fun.